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SUNSHINE AND SHADOW 



IN 



NEW YORK. 



BY 



MATTHEW HALE SMITH. 

(BUKLEIGH.) 



• To know the coiintn- to its farthest veins, 
Find out its heart; there all its being tends. 
The mighty mart throbs only with the pulses 
Of the wide land, whicli potirs its streams of life 
And strength into its bosom." 



HARTFORD: 
J. B. BURR AND COMPANY. 

1869. 



F\').2 
4-7 



Entered, according- to Act of Congress, in the year 1SC8, by 

J. B. 15URU AND COMPANY, 

In tho Clerk's Office of the United States for tlie District of Connecticut. 



Entered also at Stationers' Hall, Loudon, Englimd. 






KLECTROTYI'KD AT THE 

BOSTON STKKKOTYPE FOaNDET, 

No. 19 Spring Loue. 



INTRODUCTION. 



My purpose in this book has been to draw the 
Great Metropolis with its hghts and shades, in a series 
of graphic papers : to sketch New York as I have 
seen it. From original and reliable sources I have 
drawn my information and material for these sketches, 
I have selected representative men, and have at- 
tempted fairly to present their characteristics, and 
usually as their friends would wish to see them. Of 
things and places, I have drawn from my own knowl- 



edge or observation. 



M. H. S. 

(3) 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



SUNSHINE AND SHADOW, .... 
OLD CITY HALL, WALL STREET, . 
INSIDE PLYMOUTH CHURCH, . 
TOMBS, SUNDAY MORNING, . 

STREET SWEEPER, . • • • ' 

SUNDAY BEER GARDEN, 

SEAMEN'S BETHEL, 

INSIDE TRINITY CHURCH, . 

CENTRAL PARK, SATURDAY AFTERNOON, 

INSIDE HARRY- HILL'S DANCE HOUSE, 

HERALD BUILDING, BROADWAY', 

FIRE ENGINE ON DUTY, 



To face title-page. 


<( 'I 


page 43 


u u 


" 87 


<1 11 


« IGf 


(C 11 


" 209 


II It 


It 217 


a 11 


" 231 


11 " 


" 277 


11 <i 


" 361 


(t 11 


" 437 


U It 


« 515 


U il 


« 553 



C4) 



CONTENTS. 



I. 

THE CITY OF NEW YORK. 

PAOK 

NEW YORK AS A PLACE OF KESIDENCE 26 

MORALITY OF THE CITY. . 28 

AN EXAMPLE, 30 

THE MINISTRY OF NEW YORK. 32 

II. 
HIGH LIFE IN NEW YORK. 

MONEYOCRACY 35 

A MASKED BALL 30 

WHO HAS MONEY 37 

BROWN, OF GRACE CHURCH 38 

YELLOW KIDS 40 

CLUBS. 40 

III. 

WALL STREET. 

INAUGURATION OF WASHINGTON 42 

FINANCIAL CENTRE. . . ...... 4? 

CHAMBER OF THE BOARD OF BROKERS. . . • . . 44 

AN INSIDE VIEW 45 

CURBSTONE BROKERS 47 

THE SEPULCHRE OF FORTUNES 48 

HOW SHREWD MEN ARE RUINED. 4'J 

IV. 

ALEXANDER T. STEWART. 

HIS EARLY LIFE 52 

THE ACCIDENT OF SUCCESS 53 

(5) 



. 63 



6 Contents. 

55 

HIS STYLE or BUSINESS 

, . 56 

NOT WELL INFORMED 

IN HIS DOWN-TOWN OFFICE ^^ 

ACCESS TO MR. STEWART NOT EASY ^^ 

STEWART AS A MASTER. • • ^^ 

HIS SHREWDNESS AND TACT ^^ 

HIS HOME ON FIFTH AVENUE 

V. 

A SHODDY PARTY. 

ITS BRILLIANT OPENING. -ITS FAILURE. 

VI. 

MRS. BURDELL-CUNNINGHAM. 

MRS. CUNNINGHAM AS A HOUSEKEEPER. . • • • -65 

MRS. CUNNINGHAM AS A WIDOW ^"^ 

• .66 

HER MARRIAGE • ' 

HER DAUGHTERS 

VII. 

SHARP BUSINESS, AND ITS VALUE. 

70 
TWO KINDS OF BUSINESS. . • • 

TWO MACADAMIZED ROADS ^^ 

72 
CASES IN p6iNT * „3 

A HARD CREDITOR 

A SHARP MERCHANT. 

TWO SHARPERS 76 

MATRIMONIAL SHARPNESS 

VIII. 

A NIGHT ON THE BATTERY. 

... 78 
THE BATTERY AS IT WAS 

A SUICIDE ^^ 

A DARK STORY. . . * ' "^ 

THE TEMPTATION. ....•••' 

A RESCUE. . 

FORCED LOANS 

TRAFFIC IN FLESH AND BLOOD ^ 

MADDENING EXTORTIONS. ^ 



Contents. 



IX. 

MR. BEECHER AND PLYMOUTH CHURCH. 

ORIGIN.' OF THE CHURCH 80 

PLYMOUTH CHURCH ON SUNDAY MORNING 87 

TEN-MINUTE RULE 88 

MR. BEECHER IN THE PULPIT 89 

HIS SERMONS. 91 

PECULIARITIES OF THE CHURCH «? 

THE INFLUENCE OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH «4 

MR. BEECHER IN THE LECTURE-ROOM 95 

HIS CONVERSION 97 

PERSONAL. . 98 

AS A PASTOR. 100 



X. 

HARTER BROTHERS. 



RECORD OF FIFTY YEARS. . 

JAMES'S BOYHOOD 

ORIGIN OF THE HOUSE OF HARPERS. . 
E.STABLISHMENT ON FRANKLIN SQUARE. 

EMPLOYEES 

THE CHARACTER OF THE HOUSE. . 
THE COUNTING-ROOM 



101 

loa 

103 
105 
105 
100 
107 



XI. 

STOCK AND Oil PREACHERS. 



THE NEW YORK PULPIT. 
MINISTE11I.\L SPECULATORS. 
A SPECIMEN IN POINT. 



109 
110 
110 



XII. 
JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 



HIS EARLY" LIFE 

EMB.VRKS FOR AMERICA. . 

HE BEGINS BUSINESS. . 

EARLY' SUCCESS. 

ENGAGES IN COMMERCE. 

SITE OF THE ASTOR HOUSE. 

HIS STYLE OF BUSINESS. 

MAKES FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS. 

A BRIDAL GIFT 



lis 

114 
114 
115 
110 
117 
118 
118 
110 



8 Contents. 

HIS LIBEUALITY. 120 

ASTOR LIBUARY 121 

THE MORLEY LEASE 121 

HOW HIS WEALTH WAS LEFT. 123 

MR. ASTOR AT EIGHTY-ONE. 123 

HIS RELIGION. 125 

HIS CLOSING HOURS 120 

XIII. 

BLACK-MAILING AS AN ART. 

METHODS OF RAISING MONEY 128 

A WIDOWER BLACK-MAILED , . 120 

A MINISTER FALLS AMONG THIEVES 131 

BLACK-MAILERS AT A WEDDING . 134 

A BRIDE CALLED ON 135 

ANOTHER MODE 137 

BLACK-3IAILER FOILED. 137 

HOTEL REGISTERS AND BLACK-MAIL 139 

XIV. 

SUNDAY IN NEW YORK. 

SABBATH MORNING 140 

CHURCH-GOERS. 141 

PLEASURE-GOERS 142 

RELIGIOUS PECULIARITIES. . . ... . . . 143 

FOREIGNERS AND SUNDAY. . . ' 144 

XV. 

DETECTIVE FORCE OF NEW YORK. 

ITS ORIGIN. . . . ' 146 

QUALIFICATIONS OF A DETECTIVE ' . . 147 

OLD HAYS 148 

HOW THE DETECTIVES DO THEIR WORK. , . . . 149 

WHY ROGUES GO CLEAR 150 

XVI. 

A NIGHT AMONG THE DETECTIVES. 

HEADQUARTERS 151 

THE ARREST OF A PICFvPOCKET 152 

AN OLD MAN IN TROUBLE 154 



Contents. 9 

A MINISTEU IN TUOUBLE . . .155 

A SEA CAPTAIN IN DIFFICULTY 157 

BUIUJLAR DETECTED BY A BUTTON 158 

A SHADOW ON THE PATH. 160 

PklVATE DETECTIVES 101 

THE HUMANITY OF DETECTIVES 162 

THE OTERO MURDEU • .... 163 

XVII. 

THE TOMBS ON SUNDAY MOENING. 

HOW THE PRISON LOOKS 165 

INSIDE VIEW 106 

THE COURT-ROOM. 107 

THE JUDGE ON THE BENCH 168 

DIVINE SERVICE. . 171 

XVIII. 

POLICE FORCE OF NEW YORK. 

THE OLD SYSTEM 173 

ATTEMPT AT REFORM 174 

1 NIFORM REBELLION 175 

JIETROPOLITAN SYSTEM 176 

GENERAL SUPERINTENDENTS 177 

THE POLICE AT THEIR WORK. 180 

THE HARBOR PRECINCT 182 

HEADQUARTERS. 1S2 

THE FULL POLICE FORCE 184 

XIX. 

WILLIAM B. ASTOR. 

A MAN OF THE, OLD SCHOOL 186 

HIS OFFICE 187 

MR. ASTOR AS A CITIZEN 188 

jMR. ASTOR'S sons 189 

JOHN JACOB ASTOR I'JO 

XX. 

CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 

EARLY LIFE..' 193 

MR. VANDERBILT IN HIS OFFICE 194 



10 



Contents. 



PERSONAL 

AS A RAILROAD MAN. . 

MR. VANDERBILT ON THE OCEAN. 

GREAT GIFT TO THE NATION. 



195 
IM 
198 
200 



XXI. 

THE FIVE POINTS. 

A SCENE AT FIVE POINTS 202 

LADIES' FIVE POINTS MISSION. — ORIGIN OF THE WORK. . 204 

THE FIELD SELECTED 204 

THE NATIONALITY OF THE LOWLY. 205 

THE MISSION BEGUN 205 

A WALK AROUND FIVE POINTS 208 

THE MISSION OF THE BEAUTIFUL 209 

HOW THE WORK IS SUPPORTED 211 

gUCCESS OF THE MISSION WORK. 212 

A REMARKABLE MEETING . . 212 

XXII. 

THE BOWERY. 

THE BOWERY' ON SUNDAY' 214 

LAGER BEER GARDENS ' . . 216 

A AVALK UP THE AVENUE 217 

XXIII. 

PHILIP PHILLIPS, THE CHRISTIAN VOCALIST. 

HIS EARLY LIFE 220 

HE REMOVES WEST 220 

HIS APPEARANCE, AND MANNER AS A SINGEH. . , . .222 

PRESTDENT LINCOLN AND MR. PHILLIPS 223 



XXIV. 

SAILORS IN NEW YORK. 



JACK ON SHORE. . 
HOMES FOR SEAMEN. 
SAILOR DANCE-HOUSES. 
LAND-SHARKS. . 



220 
227 
228 
2.'?0 



BETHELS .231 

WATER STREET RAMBLE 2.32 



Contents. 11 

XXV. 

rULTON STREET rRAYER-MEETING. 

EAKLY DUTCH CIIUUCII 235 

rOUNDEH OF THE DAILY PRAYER-MEETING '-'37 

FIRST NOONDAY MEETING 2:!8 

THE PERSONALE OF THE MIJETING. 2:!<) 

AN INSIDE VIEW. . . . • 210 

FLIES IN THE OINTMENT 241 

FINALE 242 

XXVI. 

BUSINESS REVERSES IN NEW YORK. 

MIRAGE OF WEALTH 243 

RAILROAD CONDUCTOR 245 

A RAILROAD KING • • • .245 

SARATOGA BELLE 24S 

ROCK IN THE CHANNEL 240 

SUCCESS A COY THING 252 

OLD MERCHANTS 254 

XXVII. 

ADAMS EXPRESS COMPANY. 

ORIGIN OF THE EXPRESS BUSINESS 257 

ORGANIZATION 258 

HEADQUARTERS 25!) 

THE SUPERINTENDENT 200 

THE STABLES 2(U 

THE LESSON 203 

XXVIII. 

COLLEGE HONORS. 

COMMON BOON 2G4 

COVETED HONORS 264 

THE SCRAMBLE 205 

A RACE 206 

XXIX. 

FERNANDO WOOD. 

HIS START 208 

HIS PIOUS ROLE ^^ 



12 



Contents. 



THE INAUGURAL 270 

HE WINS OVER THE PUBLIC 272 

ASSUMES HIS REAL CHARACTER. . ' , ' 274 

PERSONAL. 275 

XXX. 

TRINITY CHURCH CORPORATION. 

THE AVEALTH OF TRINITY 278 

AS A PARISH 279 

THE YOUNG RECTOR 279 

TRINITY SERVICES 281 

XXXI. 

CONSPIRACY AGAINST PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 

THE PRESIDENT IN THE CITY 283 

THE CONSPIRATORS 285 

THE FEELING IN WASHINGTON 286 

PLOT DISCOVERED 287 

VISIT TO MR. LINCOLN 288 



XXXII. 

INCIDENTS IN CITY EVANGELIZATION. 

NEW YORK CITY MISSION. — ORIGIN OF THE WORK. . . .290 

THRILLING INCIDENTS 291 

TEMPERANCE IN A RUM SALOON. 293 

RESCUE OF THE DESTITUTE. ....... 293 

A SOLDIER IN TROUBLE 294 

A YOUNG MAN'S STORY 294 

NOT EASILY DISCOURAGED 296 

A MISSIONARY'S DAILY WORK. 297 

A FOOL ANSWERED ACCORDING TO HIS FOLLY. . . .298 



XXXIII. 

POLICEMEN ON TRIAL. 



NEED OF DISCIPLINE. . 
MR. ACTON AS A JUDGE. . 
TRIALS IN THE COURT-ROOM. 
HUMOR AND WIT. 
TRYING THE COMPLAINANT. 
A PANEL-THIEF. 



300 
301 
303 
303 
305 
306 



Contents. 



13 



NEW 



YORK HOME. 



XXXIV. 

GENERAL CHAHLES STETSON AND THE ASTOR IIOU 

ORIGIN OF THE ASTOR HOUSE. . 

NEW YORK AROUND THE ASTOR. . 

GENERAL STETSON AND THE ASTOR. . 

THIRTY YEARS OF HOTEL LIFE. 

MR. JONES, THE BAGGAGE-MASTER. . 

BOOM NUMBER ELEVEN THURLOW WEED'S 

MR. WEED'S EARLY CAREER. 

SECRET OF HIS POWER 

AN INCIDENT 

PERSONAL. 

MR. WEBSTER AT THE ASTOR HOUSE. . 

AN INCIDENT 

WEBSTER'S BIRTHDAY 

BALTIMORE N03IINATI0N. 

MR. WEBSTER AND GENERAL TAYLOR. 



SE. 



.309 
.310 
.312 
314 
315 
317 
313 
319 
320 
320 
.322 
323 
324 
326 
328 



XXXV. 

LEONARD W. JEROME, 
DRIVING HIS FOUR-IN-HAND 



331 



XXXVI. 

REV. DR. E. H. CHAPIN. 



IN NEW YORK. 
AS A PREACHER. 
IN THE PULPIT. 
PERSONAL. 



.3.32 
333 
334 
335 



XXXVII. 

REV. 0. B. EROTHINGHAM. 
THE MANTLE OF THEODORE PARKER. . 



33G 



XXXVIII. 

PRACTICAL JOKES. 

GREEK SLAVE 

SECTARIAN DOG 

A NOCTURNAL MISTAKE 

HOW TO COLLECT A CROWD 

SERMON TO OLD VETERANS. 



33.S 
.3.39 
3t0 
341 
341 



14 



Contents. 



HUMOR IN THE PULPIT 342 

WOOL BY THE FOOT ^43 

GHOST IN ASTOR LIBRARY. . . ■ 344 

A BAPTIST MINISTER IN A QUANDARY 345 

BAD SPECULATION . 345 

KIV^AL CLAIMS TO AUTHORSHIP .346 

A DIVINE ON HIS MUSCLE 346 

BARNUM AND THE RECTOR 347 

FUN AND PIETY 348 

XXXIX. 

NEW YEAR'S DAY IN NEW YORK. 

ITS ANTIQUITY 350 

THE PREPARATION 351 

THE TABLE 351 

DRESS OF THE LADIES 352 

THE RECEPTION. 353 

NEW YEAR'S NIGHT 354 

XL. 

CENTRAL PARK. 

ITS ORIGIN 356 

THE COMMISSION 357 

ITS INFLUENCE ON THE PEOPLE 358 

THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN 361 

THE PRIDE OF NEW YORK 361 

XLI. 

SCHOOL OF INSTRUCTION FOR METROPOLITAN POLICE. 

UNDER CHARGE OF MR. LEONARD 363 



XLII. 

LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY. 

INTERESTING FACTS. — HOMES OF THE LOWLY 365 

A NIGHT TRAMP 366 

BAREFOOTED BEGGAR 366 

A STREET BOY 367 

A SAD SCENE 368 

GENTEEL SUFFERING 369 



Contents. 



15 



XLIII. 
SOCIAL EVIL IN NEW YOEK. 



EXTENT OF TUBLIC PROSTITUTION, 
. MU. KENNEDY'S STATEMENT. . 
HOUSES OF THE FIKST CLASS. 

THE KEEPER 

HOW THEY ARE FILLED. 
AGENTS AND RUNNERS. . 
THRILLING CASES. 
STARTLING FACTS. 
VICTUIS FROM NEW ENGLAND. . 
A NIGHT ENCOUNTER. 
A MAYOR'S EXPERIENCE. 
HOPELESS CLASSES. . 



371 
372 
375 
377 

3r8 

370 
380 
381 
3S4 
385 
380 
387 



XLIV. 

PANEL-THIEVING. 



AS A SYSTEM. 

THE PANEL-BOUSE. 

ROBBERY. 



300 
301 
302 



XLV. 

GAMBLING-HOUSES OF THE FIRST CLASS. 



LOCATION. 

ARRANGEMENT AND TABLE. 

GAMBLING-ROOM. . 

HOW THE GAME GOES ON. 

THE COMPANY. 

JOHN MORRISSEY'S HOUSE. 

HIS START. . 

FINDS EMPLOYMENT. 

BEGINS AS A GAMBLER, 

AT SARxVTOGA. . 

GAMBLING AS A TRADE. 

ONE MAKES A FORTUNE. , 



394 

395 
30(5 
300 
307 
308 
390 
300 
401 
401 
402 
403 



XLVI, 

LOW CLASS GAMBLING-HOUSES. 

THE SKIN GAME 

HOW VICTIMS ARE SECURED 



405 
405 



16 Contents. 



XLVII. 

DAY GAMBLING-HOUSES. 

THEIR ORIGIN 408 

HOW THE ROOMS ARE FITTED UP 409 

AN INSIDE VIEW 410 

XLVIII. 

TELEGRAPH HEADQUARTERS, ETC. 

PROFESSOR MORSE. 412 

INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH 413 

MEN SLOW TO BELIEVE 413 

GOVERNMENT AID 415 

TELEGRAPH COMPANIES 416 

AMERICAN TELEGRAPH COMPANY (WESTERN UNION). . . 417 

NEW MODE OF AVRITING 418 

SYSTEM OF BUSINESS 418 

A DOMESTIC CONVENIENCE 419 

EMPLOYMENT FOR WOMEN 420 

XLIX. 

GEORGE LAW. 
HIS FINANCIAL START 421 

L. 

BROWN AND BROTHERS. 
THE FOUNDER OF THE HOUSE. . 423 

LI. 

STREET-WALKERS. 

WHO THEY ARE 424 

BED-HOUSES 425 

VISITORS 426 

WOMEN ON THE PAVE 427 

AN INCIDENT 428 

HOW STREET-WALKERS APPEAR 429 

LII. 

HOUSES OF ASSIGNATION. 
PRIVATE AND PUBLIC 431 



Contents. 17 

LIII. 
HARRY HILL'S DANCE-HOUSE. 

VrnO IS HARRY HILL ? 4:^5 

THE DANCE-HALL 4.;o 

INSIDE VIEW. 4:7 

THE COMPANY 4:8 

A DARK PAGE TO READ 4."9 

THE PASTIMES 410 

THE MANAGER 4U 

WRECKS OF CHARACTER 441 

A STARTLING CASE . . . 4n 

LIV. 
THE FRIENDS IN NEW YORK. 

THE SECT 446 

A QUAKER MEETING-HOUSE 447 

SABBATH SERVICE 448 

THE PREACHING 449 

YEARLY MEETING. 430 

LV. 

THE CHILDREN OF ABRAHAM. 

THE JEWS IN NEW YORK 452' 

JEWS OF THE LOWER CLASS 453 

THE SYNAGOGUES. 451 

INNOVATIONS 455 

THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER 457 

JEWISH SUNDAY SCHOOLS 457 

LVI. 

THE GREAT BEAR OF WALL STREET. 

JACOB LITTLE. — HIS CAUTION, SELF-RELIANCE, AND INTEGRITY. 459 

LVII. 

METHODISM IN NEW YORK. 

ITS ORIGIN i"^ 

1I0RS#AND CART LANE 4(14 

THE LIBERALITY OF THE EARLY CHRISTIANS IN NEW YOItK. . 403 

THE GROWTH OF THE CHURCH 4G7 

THE DREW THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 408 

2 



18 



Contents. 



LVIII. 

MADAME DEMOREST. 

HER DRESS-MAKING AND MILLINERY ESTABLISHMENTS. . . 469 

LIX. 

GENERAL GRANT IN NEW YORK. 

HIS ARRIVAL 472 

AN ADJUTANT GENERAL'S STORY 473 

HOW THE GENERAL GOT INTO THE ARMY 474 

GENERAL SCOTT ON GENERAL GRANT 476 

MR. LINCOLN RECALLS HIM 477 

A FATHER'S OPINION OF HIS SON 479 

THE OVATION 479 

MRS. GRANT 4S1 

GENERAL GRANT IN PRIVATE LIFE 481 

LX. 

ORIGIN OF THE NEW YORK RELIGIOUS PRESS. 

DR. MORSE ATS^D HIS SONS 486 

BOSTON RECORDER 487 

THE OLDEST RELIGIOUS NEWSPAPER. 488 

THE FOUNDING OF THE OBSERVER. 488 



LXI. 

THE PECULIARITIES OF NEW YORK CHURCHES. 

CLERICAL REPUTE. . , . • 490 

FLUCTUATION OF CHURCHES 492 

GRACE CHURCH 404 

WAYSIDE WORSHIP . 495 

TREATMENT OF STRANGERS 496 

LXII. 

MINISTERS' CHILDREN. 
THEY ARE PATRONIZED AND PITIED 498 

LXIII. 

REV. DR. ADAMS, OF THE PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH. 

HIS EARLY CAREER 502 

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK 503 



Contents. 



10 



MADTSON AVENUE CHURCH. . 

SECKET OF SUCCESS 

HIS STYLE OF PREACHING. . 

HIS POSITION 

DR. ADAMS AS AN AUTHOR. 

A FASHIONABLE UP-TOWN CHURCH. 



504 
505 
507 
508 
508 
509 



LXIV. 

JAMES GORDON BENNETT AND THE N. Y. HERALD. 



MR. BENNETT'S EARLY LIFE. 

EMBARKS FOR AMERICA 

HIS NEW YORK CAREER 

CAREER AS A JOURNALIST. 

NEW YORK HERALD. . ... 

THE NEW HERALD BUILDING. . 

INSIDE VIEW 

THE COUNCIL. 

MR. BENNETT AT H03IE 

HIS FAMILY 

MR. BENNETT AND THE FRENCH MISSION. . 
PERSONAL APPEARANCE 



511 
512 
513 
51.3 
514 
515 
516 
517 
518 
520 
522 
523 



LXV. 

DANIEL DREW. 

EARLY LIFE S26 

MR. DREW IN NEW YORK 527 

MR. DREW ON THE HUDSON 527 

MR. DREW AND THE HUDSON RIVER RAILROAD. . . ^ 628 

MR. DREW AT THE STOCK BOARD 529 

PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC 329 



LXVI. 

THE NEW YORK BAR — ITS REPRESENTATIVE MEN. 

GENERAL VIEW 531 

EMINENT LAWYERS 534 

CHARLES O'CONOR 534 

WILLIAM M. EVARTS . . • 536 

JAMES T. BRADY 5-38 

DAVID DUDLEY FIELD 5.39 

A. OAKEY HALL 542 

WILLIAM J. A. FULLER *** 



20 



Contents. 



LXVII. 

THE METROPOLITAN FIRE DEPARTMENT. 

ITS ORIGIN 548 

THE NEW FORCE 549 

THE HORSES. 550 

THE ENGINE HOUSES 551 

AT A FIRE 553' 

THE GOVERNMENT OF THE DEPARTMENT 553 

LXVIII. 

FIRST DIVISION NATIONAL GUARD. 

FORMATION OF THE DIVISION 555 

THE MILITARY AS A POLICE FORCE 557 

THE MILITARY AND RIOTS 558 

THE SEVENTH REGIMENT AND THE ASTOR PLACE RIOT. . 560 

MAYOR WOOD'S RIOT 561 

AN EPISODE 562 

THE FINALE. 564 

FIRST DIVISION AND THE WAR 5G5 

PRESIDENDIAL RECEPTION 566 

THE PARADES . 5GG 

LXIX. 

HON. JOHN KETTELAS HACKETT. 

RECORDER'S COURT 508 

RECORDER HACKETT 569 

THE RECORDER ON THE BENCH 570 

SENTENCING CRIMINALS 570 

COURT OF GENERAL SESSIONS 572 

LXX. 

REV. DR. SAMUEL OSGOOD. 

UNITARTANISM IN NEW YORK 575 

DR. OSGOOD AS A THEOLOGIAN 576 

DR. OSGOOD IN THE PULPIT 578 

THE NEW CHURCH 579 

LXXI. 

BISHOP ONDERDONK. 

HIS INNOVATIONS 581 



Contents. 21 

LXXII. 

AARON BURR AND HIS DUEL. 

HIS LIKENESS IN THE STATE LIBKARY AT ALBANY. . . .686 

LXXIII. 

REV. DR. JOHN DOWLING, OF THE BAPTIST CHURCH. 

FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH 580 

REV, DR. DOWLING u'JO 

HIS EARLY LIFE.— IN NEW YORK. — PERSONAL 591 

LXXIV. 

PHINEAS TAYLOR BAR NUM. 

HIS EARLY CAREER « . .503 

MR. BARNUM AS A PUBLIC CATERER 504 

THE THEORY OP SUCCESS 506 

REVERSES.- PERSONAL 507 

FAILURE AND SUCCESS 508 

LXXV. 

ROBERT BONNER AND THE NEW YORK LEDGER. 

HIS EARLY CAREER. — REMOVAL TO NEW YORK. . . .605 

AN UPWARD STEP 007 

OWNS THE LEDGER 608 

HIS SYSTEM OF ADVERTISING .009 

STRATEGY 610 

THE VALUE OF A NAME 012 

BANCROFT AND MR. EVERETT. — MR. BEECHER A^D THE LEDGER. 014 

BONNER'S HORSES 015 

HIS STABLES. 017 

PERSONAL. 610 

LXXVI. 

A. V. STOUT, PRESIDENT OF SHOE AND LEATHER BANK. 

HIS EARLY LIFE 0l.'2 

HIS TACT 023 

CONNECTION WITH THE PUBLIC SCHOOL. — A CRASH. . . . 024 

BUSINESS PRINCIPLE 625 

BECOMES A MERCHANT. — HIS CONNECTION WITH THE BANK. . 628 

PERSONAL. 629 



22 Contents. 

LXXVII. 

JOHN ALLEN'S DANCE-HOUSE. 

LOCATION 631 

A VISIT TO THE DANCE-HOUSE. — AN INSIDE VIEW. . . 632 

A TALK WITH ALLEN. — RELIGIOUS SERVICES 633 

LXXVIII. 

NEW YORK DAILY PEESS. 

ITS POWER 635 

THE NEW YORK TIMES . 637 

THE EVENING POST 610 

THE NEW YORK WORLD 641 

• LXXIX. 

NEW YORK INDEPENDENT. 

ITS ORIGIN 643 

BASIS OF THE PAPER 644 

THE INDEPENDENT AND ITS EDITORS. 645 

THE HIGHER LAW 646 

TRACT SOCIETY CONTROVERSY .647 

MR. BEECHER AS EDITOR. — THEODORE TILTON. ... 648 

DR. LEAVITT. — HENRY C. BO WEN 650 

FINALE 651 

FINANCIAL SUCCESS 652 

LXXX. 

H€)N. HORACE GREELEY. 
HIS POWER OVER THE PEOPLE. 654 

I*XXXI. 

GENERAL CHARLES G. HALPINE. 
MILES O'REILLY ,659 

LXXXII. 

R. L. AND A. STUART. 
THE OLD MANUFACTORY ON CHAMBERS STREET. ... 662 



Contents. 23 

LXXXIII. 

JAMES LENOX. 
THE Ur-TOWN MOVEMENT COMMENCED BY HIM. , , . 0(H 

^ LXXXIV. 

AUGUST BELMONT. 
AGENT OF THE ROTHSCHILDS. 666 

LXXXV. 

EDWIN 1). MOEGAN. 
COMMENCED TRADE IN A SMALL WAY. 668 

LXXXVI. 

THEATRES IN NEW YORK. 
THE BOWERY BOYS AND PLUG UGLIES. . . . • . 669 

LXXXVII. 

NEW YORK YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION. 

ORIGIN 671 

CONTROVERSY ON SLAVERY 672 

WHO ORIGINATED FULTON STREET DAY MEETING ? . . . 672 

ASSOCIATION AND THE WAR 673 

LARGE WORK OF THE ASSOCIATION. — NEW HEADQUARTERS. . 074 

rURPOSE OF THE ASSOCIATION 675 

OUTSIDE WORK ^ .... 070 

LXXXVIII. 

ADMIRAL DAVID &. EARRAGUT. 

EARLY LIFE. — HEROIC RESOLUTION. 670 

HE BECOMES A STUDENT. — VALUE OF ONE BOOK. . . . 080 

THE GREAT LESSON TAUGHT '"'S- 

PERSONAL. ^^ 



LXXXIX. 

DORLAN'S, PULTON MARKET. 
HIS OYSTER ESTABLISHMENT. . . . • • 



084 



24 



Contents. 



xc. 

EOMAN CATHOLICS IN NEW YORK. 



THE CITY UNDER CATHOLIC RULE. 

INTRODUCTION OF CATHOLICISM INTO NEW YORK. 

ITS PRESENT POSITION. 

ARCHBISHOP MCCLOSKEY • . 



688 
690 
691 
692 



XCI. 

GIFT SWINDLERS AND LOTTERY ENTERPRISES. 

THEIR EXTENT . . , . . .694 

PLAN OF OPERATION 695 

THE TICKET SWINDLE 697 

MODES OF OPERATING 698 

PRIZE TICKET. — CIRCULAR 699 

MEDICAL SWINDLE 700 

THE LETTERS 701 

WHY DO NOT THE POLICE BREAK UP THIS SWINDLING.' . 702 

THE PARTIES WHO CARRY ON THE SWINDLE. . . . . 703 

DOLLAR STORES 704 



XCII. 

SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. 
THE EXTREMES IN NEW YORK LIFE. . 



706 






THE CITY OF NEW YORK. 

NEW YORK AS A PLACE OF RESIDENCE. — MORALITY OF THE CITY. — ITS 
BENEFICE>-CE. AN EXAMPLE. THE MINISTRY OF NEW YORK. 

New York is the commercial metropolis of America. 
It stands on an island defined by three rivers, — the 
Hudson, the East River, and Harlem, — sixteen miles 
from the Atlantic Ocean. The city lies at the head 
of the Bay of New York, one of the finest in the world. 
Broadway, the principal street, runs the entire length 
of the island, and is paved, policed and lighted for fif- 
teen miles, from the Battery to the Harlem River. The 
Dutch called the island Mauritius, after Prince Maurice, 
who governed Holland. The Indians called it Man- 
hattan. Later the Dutch called it Nieuw Amsterdam. 
The English changed it to its present name in honor 
of the Duke of York. From the Battery the city 
stretches away north, spreading out like a fan till it 
reaches its northern boundary. Its average breadth is 
about one mile and a half. The population of the city 
is over nine hundred thousand. It costs half a mil- 

(25) 



26 Sunshine and Shadow 

lion annually to light the city. Two thousand police- 
men guard the city at the annual cost of over a million 
and a half of dollars. Seven hundred thousand dollars 
a year are disbursed by the authorities in public charity. 
Three hundred relig-ious and benevolent societies col- 
lect and pay out annually the sum of over two and a 
half millions. The Catholics number amono- their wor- 
shippers five hundred thousand. The Protestant faith 
numbers among its worshijipers about three hundred 
and fifty thousand, who expend one million a year in 
support of their faith. 

NEW YORK AS A RESIDENCE. 

Some twenty years ago a man in Vermont pro- 
posed to visit New York. He made his will, and had 
prayers offered in the church that he might be kept 
from peril in the wicked city to which he was going. 
Those who live at a distance, and know the city only 
through the papers, suppose it to be as wicked as Sodom 
and as unsafe as Gomorrah in the time of Lot. As a 
home it has few attractions to a strano;er. Its babel 
and confusion distract and almost craze. Its solitude 
is distressing. In the midst of a crowd the stranger is 
alone. He might live or die without any one's know- 
ing or caring. The distinguished man, or well-to-do 
merchant from the country, has no deference paid to 
him. He is jostled by the crowd, trampled down by 
the omnibus, or run over by the market vans. He 
stands in the vestibule of a fashionable church till his 
legs tire and his lady faints from indignation, and 
when he has a seat, it probably is a back one. A short 
residence in New York changes things wonderfully. 



In New York. 27 

Order and harmony seem to come out of the confusion. 
Famihes find themselves as well protected and as com- 
fortable as in a smaller town. The loneliness and soli- 
tude find a compensation in the independence which 
each family and person secures, A man in New York 
can live as he pleases — dwell in a palace or in an 
attic, dine at night or not at all, keep a dozen servants 
or none, get up early or late, live in style or be old 
fashioned. No one will meddle with or trouble him 
unless he undertakes to make great display. On 
change, in business, in the social circle, or at church, 
the style of a man's living and doing harms him not. 
There is a warm. Christian, benevolent heart in New 
York, a frank and generous sociability, when one can 
command it, that is delightful. The family who " would 
not live in New York if you would give them the best 
house on Fifth Avenue," after a year's residence are 
seldom willing to live anywhere else. The climate is 
delightful. It is not savnge and rasping. It is not 
enervating, like Philadelphia or Baltimore. East winds 
do not trouble the feeble. Clear, bracing winds come 
daily from the ocean, bearing health on their wings. 
The winter is short, and seldom severe. The spring 
and autumn are long and delicious. The weather for 
eight months in the year is exhilarating, and gives a 
charm to life. Broadway is a perpetual panorama. Its 
variety never tires. The windows are filled with the 
richest and most elegant goods. Gold, silver, jewels, 
diamonds, silks, satins, and costly fabrics flash under 
the plate glass for miles. The pavement is the great 
promenade where the eminent men of New York can 
be seen daily, while ladies of fame, fashion, and ele- 



28 Sunshine and Shadow 

gance, in the richest and most fashionable attire, crowd 
and jostle each other up and down this great thorough- 
fare. In no city in the world do ladies dress so ele- 
gantly and with so much expense, for the* street, 
as in New York. Dressed in their gayest and most 
costly attire, their broad skirts of the richest fabrics, 
sweep the dirty sidewalks, while the abundance of 
their flashing jewels attracts attention. The carriages 
of the wealthy roll up and down this favorite thorough- 
fare, and add to the brilliancy of a bright day in New 
York. Everything that is manufactured, or that grows 
in any part of the world, can be purchased in this city. 
You can have a tropical climate if you can pay for it, 
fruits that grow in the equator, and products from 
every part of the world. A New Yorker need not go 
abroad for amusement, recreation, or health. The 
eminent men who visit America never pass by New 
York. Distino-uished artists coine here to sin^ and 
perform. Orators, musicians, and men on whom na- 
tions like to look come to the very doors of residents 
of this city. 

MORALITY OF THE CITY. 

Sound morality and business integrity have a market 
value in New York. The city was founded in religion. 
The colony that bought the island of the Indians was 
a religious colony. The early settlers, scattered all the 
way from the Battery to West Chester County, met on 
the Sabbath for worship. " The Half Moon " cast her 
anchor in the North River, and the little company 
withdrew to an island and spent their first Sabbath in 
thanksgiving and praise to God. After the toil of 



In New York. 29 

Saturday, companies came from beyond the Harlem 
River, to reach the church before the dawn of Sunday, 
that they might not break the Sabbath. Starting after 
midnight on the Sabbath, the httle company would 
walk all the way back, beguiling their path with sacred 
song, and reach home in season for Monday's work. 
The spirit of these devout Dutchmen lingers in tlie city. 
No place of its size is more secure, is freer from crime, 
or has law better administered. A large city is worse 
than a small one, because bad men can hide themselves 
in its solitude. They find scope for their talent and 
genius. The crime of England is concentrated in Lon- 
don. Barricades in Paris touch public security in the 
remotest provinces of France. Bad men locate in New 
York, fix there their headquarters, and reduce roguery 
to a system. They have their banks, expressmen, artists 
and ascents. These men dwell in the dark recesses and 
hidden chambers of the city. But to New York come 
also the most talented and best of men. The talent, 
ability, integrity, shrewdness and sharpness which 
make a small fortune in any other place, make a 
large one in New York. The best ability in the nation 
finds scope in the city " whose merchants are princes, 
whose traffickers are the honorable of the earth." Large 
societies, whose streams of humanity and religion fer- 
tilize the earth, have their fountains here. Colleges, 
seminaries, schools, in the new and sparse settlements 
of the land, are built by New York beneficence. The 
lamp of religion, which burns in the dark islands of the 
sea, is fed by the hands of the bountiful in our city. 
The feet of the swift runner on the mountains of bar- 
barism, who carries the good tidings of salvation to the 



30 Sunshine and Shadow 

dwellers in the habitations of cruelty, are made strong 
by the cheerful gifts of our people. In no city are 
churches more elegant and numerous, congregations 
richer and more liberal, preachers more learned or 
eloquent. Lawyers who have become famous else- 
where join the New York bar. The shrewdest mer- 
chants of the land, energetic, far-seeing, and successful, 
find full scope for their ability in this great centre of 
commerce and trade. The inexorable law of business 
for half a century demands integrity no less than 
talent, if one would have success. Thousands of men 
have commenced business in New York with the motto, 
" All is fair in trade," who are " as honest as the times 
will allow." None such have ever had permanent 
success. A man mio-ht as well steer his bark in a dark 
and stormy night, on a deep and treacherous sea, by a 
lantern on his bowsprit, rather than by the light-house 
on the fixed shore, as to expect business success with- 
out commercial principle. Success in New York is the 
exception, fiiilure the general rule. One can count on 
his fingers the firms who have had a quarter of a 
century's prosperity. Such have been eminent for their 
commercial integrity, for personal attention to business, 
to the inflexible rule that the purchaser should carry 
away the exact article he bought. 

AN EXAMPLE. 

In a little room in one of the by-streets of New 
York, up a narrow, dingy flight of stairs, a man may be 
found doing a little brokerage which his friends put 
into his hands. That man at one time inherited the 
name and fortune of a house which America delighted 



In New York. 31 

to honor. That house was founded by two lads who 
left their homes to seek their fortune in a great city. 
They owned nothing but the elothes they wore, and a 
small bundle tied to a stick and tlirown over their 
shoulders. Their clothes Avere homespun, were woven 
under the parental roof, and cut and made by motherly 
skill and sisterly affection. Their shoes were coarse 
and heavy, and they walked the whole distance from 
their home to the city towards which they looked for 
position and fame. They carried with them the rich 
boon of a mother's blessing and a mother's prayers. 
They were honest, industrious, truthful, and temperate. 
They did anything they found to do that was honest. 
They began a little trade, which increased on their 
hands, and extended till it reached all portions of the 
civilized world. Their credit became as extensive as 
our commerce. They identified themselves with every 
good work. Education, humanity, and religion blessed 
their munificence. The founders of the house died, 
leaving a colossal fortune and a name without a stain. 
They left their business and their reputation to the 
man who occupies the little chamber that we have 
referred to. He abandoned the principles ou which 
the fame and honor of the house had been built up. 
He stained the name that for fifty years had been un- 
tarnished. Between two days he fled from his home. 
He wandered under an assumed name. Widows and 
orphans who had left trust money in his hands lost 
their all. In his fall he dragged down the innocent, 
and spread consternation on all sides. A few years 
passed, and after skulking about in various cities abroad, 
be ventured back. ^ Men were too kind to harm him. 



Qo SrysHiyE A>-D :?EAi'OW 



o- 



Those whom he had befriended in the days of his 
prosperity helped hhn to a little brokerage to earn his 
bread In one of our cities a granite store was built 
It had a fair, strong outside show. The builder said 
it would stand if fill^ with pig-lead The building was 
filled with valuable merchandise. In the midst of 
business one daj, the floors gave way. carrying every- 
thins into the cellar, the inmates barely escapmg with 
their hves. Deep down among the foundations, under 
an hnportant piUar. an unfaithful workman had put an 
imperfect stone. The exact pressure came, and the 
wreck was complete. New York is full of such wrecks. 

TEE ^HSISTET OF >T:W TOEK. 

This city is the paradise of preachei-s. The clergy 
are mdependent, and are well supported. Many who 
came to the citv poor are rich. Some have saved a 
fortune: others have married a fortune: others have 
been fortunate in speculations in stock, oil, and real j 
estate. Ministers can do in New York, and maintain | 
their position, what the profession can do in no other 
citv Xo churches are more elegant, or parsonages more 
co^^tlv. than those of the MethodL<t denommation, and 
their' minL^ters eniov salaries exceeded by few. Trinity 
Church, the wealthiest corporation m the land, has 
four parL^hes. a rector, and six assL-tant ministei- The 
rector has a salarvof ten thousand dollars, and a house. 
The assistants have each six thousand dollars and a 
house Munificent presents, a tour to Europe, a life set- 
tlement, a provL^ion for sickness and old age, are among 
the perqumtes which these mmL<ters enjoy. Dr. bpnng. 
of the Old Brick Church, came to N:ew York a young 



In New York. 33 

man and poor. He has always lived in a fashionable 
part of the city, keeps his carriage and footman, and is 
a wealthy citizen. From Philadelphia to the old Beek- 
man Street Church of St. Georcje ^me Dr. Tvn^. A 
large salarj^ has enabled him to live in good style. He 
rides in his carriage, owns valuable real estate, and is 
wealthy. Dr. Hardenburg, of the Reformed Dutch 
Church, has alwa^^s lived in good style, and, possessing 
a fortune, dwells at his ease. Dr. Van Xest is one of 
the richest men in New York. His own wealth and 
that of his wife make a colossal fortune. The Col- 
legiate Church, older than Trinity, and quite as wealthy, 
has four pastors, to each of whom an elegant house and 
a hberal salary are given. Dr. Yermillye, who came to 
the city from a small Congregational church in Massa- 
chusetts, is in possession of a handsome fortune, and 
dwells in metropohtan stjde in the upper part of Xew 
York. Dr. Adams has a fine fortune, and dwells in a 
fine mansion within a stone's throw of that abode of 
aristocracy, Madison Square. Dr. Spear, by a fortunate 
speculation in stocks, acquired a fortune. Dr. Smith, 
his neighbor, bought an oil well, and wrote himself 
down worth two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 
Professor Hitchcock, of Union Seminar}^, owns the ele- 
gant mansion in which he lives on Fifth Avenue. Dr. 
Tajior, of Grace Church, had one of the most costly 
city residences, and, with his country-seat, lived like a 
millionnaire. Drs. Burchard and Hatfield live in fine 
brown-stone mansions, which thev own, and in which 
they enjoy the comforts of a luxurious home. Dr. 
Crosby inherits the vast wealth of his father. Dr. 
Booth dwells at ease, supported by a wealthy pai^ish 



o 



34 Sunshine and Shadow 

and a wealthy parent. Dr. Farley, supported by one 
of the wealthiest congregations in the state, resigned 
and took with him, as a parting gift, a donation of 
twenty-five thousand dollars. Dr. Osgood has always 
enioyed a large salary, has a fine city residence and 
a country-seat, where he passes his summer vacations. 
In no place on the continent are parishes more liberal, 
more considerate, more devoted to their pastors, than 
in New York. Such seldom leave till borne to their 
burial. 



i 



In New Yoke. 35 



II. 

HIGH LIFE IN NEW YORK. 

MONEYOCKACY. A MASKED BALL. — WHO HAS MONEY. PARTIES, WED- 
DINGS, FDNERALS. — BROWN, OF GRACE CHnRCU. — CHURCH-GOERS. — 
THE OPERA. — Y'ELLOW KIDS. CLUBS. 

With the elite of New York, so called, money is the 
principal thing. The best society of New York is not to 
be found among the elite. If you wish parties, soirees, 
balls, that are elegant, attractive, and genteel, you will 
not find them among the snobish clique, who, with 
nothing but money, attempt to rule New York. Talent, 
taste, and refinement do not dwell with these. But 
high life has no passport except money. If a man has 
this, though destitute of character and brains, he is 
made welcome. One may come from Botany Bay or 
St. James ; with a ticket of leave from a penal colony 
or St. Cloud ; if he has diamond rings and a coach, all 
places will be opened to him. The leaders of upper 
New York were, a few years ago, porters, stable-boys, 
coal-heavers, pickers of rags, scrubbers of floors, and 
laundry women. Coarse, rude, ignorant, uncivil, and 
immoral many of them are still. Lovers of pleasure 
and men of fashion bow and cringe to such, and 
approach hat in hand. One of our new-fledged mil- 
lionnaires gave a ball in his stable. The invited came 
with tokens of delight. The host, a few years ago, was 



„g Sunshine and Shadow 

a ticket taker at one of our ferries, and would have 
thSfuUy blacked the boots or done any mejnal service 
for the people who clamor for the honor of h.s band. 
A Ae .1 of Central Park, every day, splendal coaches 
may be^een, in which sit large, fat, coarse women who 
Lrv with them the marks of the wash-tub. These 
people have money. They spend it in untold sums foi . 
falls, parties, and soirees, and in drawmg upper New 
York into their gaudy mansions. 

A MASKED BALL. 

A voun<. Boston lady, by an eligible marriage with a 
princeWm°erchant, became the mistress of an extensive 
LTntS^ in Madison Square. While m France she 
~ated the emperor by her superb c-mg and 
graceful skating. His ma esty sent her a costly 
. fre nt At SaUga and Newport she drove her own 
TsHn' team with her footman behind, and became the 
Itt conspicuous of the visitors at those |iy places^ 
She resolved to give a fancy ball, and all the ehte 
vvere in a fever of excitement. Brown, of Grace 
Church had charge of the invitations, and fiv 
Si were giv^en out. AU the g-ts je^e m 
costume. Three fourths of .the guests -<^'^^ 
The dresses were rich, elegant, and costly, bmts weie 
orfeiSftom Paris and London. The ^osr.^m^^ 
as the Goddess of Music. Her dress was si o,t, and 1 er 
boots scarlet and trimmed with --11 b«Us^^ On he 
head was a lyre, from winch --?^ >?' '^"' i^^%^\ 
burnin- gas. Stock brokers, men ni h,gh life, and last 
'"Yorkers, appeared in various ^Wt^rs amo 
which the representatives of a monkey and of Satan 



In New York. 37 

attracted the most attention. The mansion was su- 
perbly fitted lip. Thousands of dollars were spent in 
floral decorations. Plate of gold and silver, china from 
beyond the seas, adorned the table. Servants in brilliant 
gold and silver livery waited on the guests. Hidden 
bands sent music through the mansion. The supper 
lasted till five in the morning. The last strains of music 
for the dancers closed at six. The counting-rooms were 
thrown open, the hammer of the artisan was heard, 
carmen and laborers were at their work, before the 
festivities ended and the door closed on the last 
departing guest. Such is high life in New York. 

WHO HAS MONEY. 

Much of the society of New York is very select, 
intellectual, and genteel. But the moneyed aristocracy, 
those who crowd gilded saloons and make up the 
parties of the ton, who are invited to soirees, fancy 
balls, and late suppers, are among the coarsest, most 
vulgar and illiterate of our people. Money is made 
easily by many in New York ; fortunes are acquired in 
a day ; families go from a shanty on a back street to a 
brown-stone front in upper New York, but they carry 
with them their vulgar habits, and disgust those who 
from social position are compelled to invite them to 
their houses. At a fashionable party, j)ersons are 
invited according to their bank account, and to their 
standing on 'change. A fashionable party is made up 
of representatives of all nations and all religions — 
men and women who can speak the English language 
and those who cannot, Jews and Gentiles, Irish and 
Germans, red-faced and heavy-bearded men, coarse- 



3g Sunshine and Shadow 

c , orl rpcl faced uncultivated women, who are 

f;:iir:nd — .. K tW go to a party, they 
laugh in their turn. 

brown, of guace church. 
The most famous man connected with New Yod. 

rVoT S: i L or .nnea .itUin its W. 
has been ever considered the be.ght of fel>c:tj For 
mly years, Brown has stood at the entrance to Muon- 
ab e hfe He gets up parties, engmeers bridals, and 
condu ts fnnerfls, more genteelly than any other man. 

reported to have said; "but we manage to make om 
funerals as entertaining as possible." No party nr ngl 
S'stmp ete withour him. A foshionable lady, abou 

o"lv a fashionable gathering at her house, orde 
ler meats from the butcher, her supplies from the 
'caller cahes and ices f-^^^^-f " '' ^ 

her invitations she puts into the hands of B>-m He 

knows whom to invite and -'^-^\''"'!^Jl^lZl^ 
who will eome,who will not eome.but ^^^'^^''^^^l^ 
In case of a pinch, he can fill up the list w h young 
men picked'up ^bout town, in black swallow-tailed 
ra:;,lhite vests, and white cravats who, m consecra- 
tion of a fine supper and a dance, will allow tl«^™Belves 
to be passed off as the sons of '!« J^^^J^^^^^ 
Yorkers. The city has any quantity of raggea 



In New York. 39 

noblemen, seedy lords from Germany, Hungarian 
barons out at the elbow, members of the European 
aristocracy who left their country for their country's 
good, who can be served up in proper proportions at 
a fashionable party when the occasion demands it. No 
man knows their haunts better than Brown. He revels 
in funerals. Fashion does not change more frequently 
in dress than in the method of conducting funerals in 
high life. What constituted a very genteel funeral last 
year would be a very vulgar one this. Cards of invi- 
tation are sent out as to a party. Sometimes the 
shutters of the house are closed, and the funeral takes 
place in gas-light. The lights are arranged for artistic 
effect. Parties who have the entree of flishionable life 
can tell, the moment they enter the rooms, what 
fashionable sexton has charge of the funeral. The 
arrangement of the furniture, the position of the 
coffin, the laying out of the body, the coffin itself, the 
adjustment of the lights, the hanging of the drapery, 
the plate-glass hearse, the number of horses, the size 
and quality of the plumes on the hearse and team, 
indicate the style of the funeral, and the wealth and 
social position of the family. Mourning has a style 
peculiar to itself, and the intensity of the grief is 
indicated by the depth of the crape. Brown is a huge 
fellow, coarse in his features, resembling a dressed-up 
carman. His face is very red, and on Sundays he 
passes up and down the aisles of Grace Church with a 
peculiar swagger. He bows strangers into a pew, when 
he deigns to give them a seat, with a majestic and 
patronizing air, designed to impress them with a real- 
izing sense of the obligation he has conferred upon tliem. 



40 Sunshine and Shadow 



YELLOW KIDS. 

Fashionable New York is distingiiislied by yellow 
kids. The supply must be large, for the demand is 
great. Wherever you find fashionable New York or 
young New York, there you will find yellow kids. On 
New Year's Day, when thousands throng the streets, 
every man you meet, young or old, who makes any 
pretension to society, wears yellow gloves. When the 
Common Council turn out, every man sports a pair at 
the city's expense. In Broadway or at Central Park, 
at the opera or in church, these glaring appendages 
flash before the eye. A fashionable New Yorker may 
have seedy clothes, a hat out of season, boots the worse 
for wear, still he will sport his yellow kids. 

CLUBS. 

After the London fashion, clubs are becoming 
common among the upper ten. They have not yet got 
the political significance of those of the old world. 
The Loyal League, in its elegant quarters on Union 
Square, is Republican. The Manhattan Club is Dem- 
ocratic. But these are for occasional festivals. The 
members of each belong to the different clubs of the 
city. The most elegant buildings on Fifth Avenue are 
club houses. They are furnished in the most gorgeous 
manner. Every convenience of comfort and luxury 
that can be conceived is found within the walls. Nearly 
every club-house indicates the brief life of a New 
York aristocrat. A lucky speculation, a sudden rise in 
real estate, a new turn of the wheel of fortune, lifts 
up the man who yesterday could not be trusted for his 



In New York. 41 

dinner, and gives him a place among the men of wealth. 
He buys a lot on Fifth Avenue ; puts up a palatial 
residence, outdoing all who have gone before him; 
sports his gay team in Central Park, carpets his 
sidewalk, gives two or three parties, and disappears 
from society. His family return to the sphere from 
which they were taken, and his mansion, with its 
gorgeous furniture, becomes a club-house. These houses 
are becoming more and more numerous. They are 
breaking up what little social and domestic life remains 
in the city. Few homes are known to New York high 
life. Men go to the club to dine, and spend their 
evenings amid its fascinations. 



42 



Sunshine and Shadow 



III. 

WALL STREET. 

INAUGT:«ATI0N of WASHIKOTOK. - riKA>^CIAL CENTKB.-CAPITAI. IK WAI.. 
STREET. -CHAMBEK OF THE BOARB OE BROKERS. - HEADQUARTEKS. - 
BROAB STREET. -CURBSTONE BROKERS. -AN INSIDE VIEW— INCIDENTS. 
-THE SEPULCHRE OF FORTUNES. - HOW SHREWD MEN ARE RUINED. 

In the financial centre of this city the United States 
government was set in motion. Where the United 
States Treasury Building now stands, facmg Broad 
Street, the Old City Hall once stood. On the balcony 
of that hall General Washington was maugurated 
President of the United States. The dwelling m which 
he resided still stands in the lower part of Broad Street. 
From this place he came up under an escort. ^^ all 
Street, in the vicinity of the City Hall, and Broad Street 
were crowded with citizens and strangers. Washington 
appeared on the balcony, attended by eminent men, 
who, with him, had carried the Revolution to a success- 
ful issue. The president reverently took the oath of 
office, administered by the chancehor. When Chancel- 
lor Livingston pronounced the memorable words,— 
"Long live George Washington, President of the 
United States!" they were acclaimed and taken up 
with enthusiasm and tears by the assembled thou- 
sands, as America took her place among the nations 
of the earth. 



i 



In New York. 43 



FINANCIAL CENTRE. 

What Threaclneeclle Street is to England, "Wall Street 
is to America. It is a narrow street, in the lower part 
of New York, running from Broadway to the East 
River. At the head of Wall Street stands the massive 
Trinity Church, the Cathedral of the city. It lifts its 
tall steeple to heaven, amid the din and babel of business. 
From its tower magnificent bells strike out the quarter 
^nd half hours of the day, and chime, with mellifluous 
peals the full ones, telling the anxious, excited and 
rushing crowd how swiftly life passes. The great 
moneyed institutions of the country are in Wall Street. 
Here stands the elegant granite building devoted to 
the United States Treasury in New York. The work is 
highly ornamental. Brilliant painting and gilding ap- 
pear everywhere. Solid mahogany desks and marble 
counters are beautiful to the eye. But there is strength 
as well as beauty. The heavy vaults, where repose the 
treasures of the government, are caverns of massive 
granite. The chambers, where the gold is counted, are 
merely stone cells. Huge iron fences, running from 
the floor to the ceiling, and heavy iron gates, guard 
against surprise. These iron barriers cross and recross 
each other, so that a mob would gain but little should 
it obtain an entrance into the building^. In Wall Street 
the Custom House is located. The costly banking 
houses adorn the street, where men w'hose integrity 
and repute have made America honorable in all parts of 
the world can be found. The men of money of the city, 
the millionnaires, speculators, and leading financiers, 
have here their headquarters. The heaviest financial 



44 Sunshine and Shadow 

operations are transacted in cellars and underground 
rooms, in dingy and narrow chambers, in the attics of 
old buildings, which are reached by rickety and creak- 
ing stairs, which threaten to give way under one's tread. 
Here is hiorh 'chanfi:e. The men whose names are so 
familiar with stock and money transactions can be 
found between twelve and three. The heaviest opera- 
tors have no offices of their own. At certain hours of 
the day they can be found in the chambers of leading 
brokers. Some of them occupy mere dens. Men wh6 
control the leading railroads, and other great stocks, 
who can agitate the financial world in an hour, will 
usually be found in some small room near Wall Street, 
sitting with a crowd of S23eculators, who are their 
lackeys, and who are ever ready to do the will of 
great financiers. 

CHAMBER OF THE BOARD OF BROKERS. 

This controlling institution is entered from Wall 
Street and Broad. It is a marble building, bf great 
elegance. The Gold Room, where the daily sales take 
place, is one of the most brilliant rooms in the city. 
The vaults are models of security. They have in 
them two hundred and fifty safes, each secured by 
independent locks, which have in them a million com- 
binations. No two locks are alike. Each member of 
the Board of Brokers has a safe assigned to him. In 
these vaults repose the treasures of the millionnaires 
of New York. The board was organized in 1794. At 
one time the entrance fee was fifty dollars. It is now 
three thousand dollars. A candidate is put on proba- 
tion for ten days. His financial honor must be without 



In New York. 45 

a stain. Application must be made through some well- 
known member, and the flict is made public. If no 
objection is made, a ballot is had. Fourteen black balls 
defeat an election. The initiation fee is put high, that 
none but men of capital and honor may be admitted. 
The rules are extremely stringent. A violation is fol- 
lowed by summary ejection. Every contract is made 
on honor, and must be kept to the letter, or the party 
is expelled, whoever he may be. For instance, a hun- 
dred shares of Erie are sold at the board by one broker 
to another. The seller delivers the stock, and takes in 
paj'ment the check of the buyer. The check is known 
to be worthless. The buyer cannot pay till he has 
delivered the stock to the customer who ordered it. 
But the check will be made good before three o'clock. 
Millions of stock pass daily from one hand to another 
in this way. During all the years of the existence of 
j^he board but one member has been found guilty of 
fraud. Some of the sharp, bold operators, who bull and 
bear the market, cannot get into the board at any 
price. They would give ten thousand dollars to be- 
come members. Their financial reputation is bad, and 
they cannot enter. These men operate through mem- 
bers of the board. 

AN INSIDE VIEW. 

On entering the building, the members pass up a 
broad flight of stairs into a small ante-room, where their 
tickets are examined. They are then admitted into 
the Gold Room. It is a very gorgeous room. It is as 
elegant as wealth and taste can make it. The stufied 
arm-chairs are inlaid with gold. The walls are covered 



46 Sunshine and Shadow 

with green silk, lapped in heavy folds, instead of paper. 
The ceiling is elaborately painted, chandeliers hang 
around. The president's seat is magnificent. The pres- 
ident has no salary. His position is one of honor. 
The work of the board is done by the first vice-pres- 
ident, who from ten to one calls the stocks and declares 
the sales. For this monotonous service he has a salary 
of seven thousand five hundred dollars a year. The 
second vice-president presides over -the second board, 
and has three thousand dollars a year for his work. A 
regular stock list is made out. No stock can be sold at 
the board that is not on the list. Guarantees are 
required from all parties who offer stock, and none can 
be put on the daily list without a vote of the board. 
At high 'change, the room, that will hold a thousand, 
is packed. In front of the president's desk is a deep 
basin, called the cock-pit. In this basin is an oblong 
table, fastened to the lloor by iron clamps. Without 
this, the excited crowd who huddle together in the 
cock-pit would trample each other to death. 

Daily some stock excites the market. Its unexpected 
rise or fall produces intense feeling. The lists of stocks 
are usually quietly sold without attention. The ex- 
citing stocks are well known, and when called, arouse 
the whole chamber. Chairs are abandoned, men rush 
pell-mell into the cock-pit, and crowd, jostle, push, and 
trample on one another. They scream out their offers 
to buy and sell. They speak all at once, yelling and 
screaming like hyenas. The scene is very exciting. 
Pandemonium is not wilder, or more disorderly. The 
presiding officer stands erect, cool and silent. Several 



In New York. 47 

hundred men surge before him, stamping, yelling, 
screaming, jumping, sweating, gesticulating, violently 
shaking their fists in each other's faces, talking in a 
tongue not spoken at Pentecost. The president holds 
in his hand a mallet of ivory, and before him is a block 
of wood encased in brass. On this he" strikes with his 
mallet, to control the intense excitement. Without it 
he would pound his desk to pieces in a short time. So 
many minutes are -allowed for the sale of stock. In the 
midst of this mad frenzy and apparent disorder, every 
word of which is understood by the initiated, the mallet 
comes dow^n with a shower of vio:orous blows. " Order ! 
order ! " runs through the chamber. The noise and 
tempest is hushed in a moment. " No more offers to- 
day, gentlemen!" the officer says, as the name of the 
buyer is announced. If the sale is contested, the pres- 
ident names the buyer. If an ap^jeal is taken from his 
decision, it is settled on the spot by a vote of the board. 
A hundred thousand dollars often hano;s on that de- 
cision. The party against whom it is given can do 
nothing but submit. 

CURBSTONE BROKERS. 

Men who have a capital ranging from one dollar to 
ten thousand occupy the basement of the building 
where the Board of Brokers meet. This hall is open to 
all who can pay the small sum of one hundred dollars a 
year. It is open all day for stock operations. It has no 
rules, and men with character and without have a 
chance to speculate as they please. Men who cannot 
get into the upper room, or have been turned out of 



48 Sunshine and Shadow 

the regular board of brokers, find refuge here. They 
run over into the street, fill the alleys, gutters, and 
curbstones, making a motley crowd, who all day long 
make the neighborhood hideous with their shoutings, 
yellings, and quarf^llings. The sidewalk is impassable. 
Teams can scarcely get through Broad Street, and the 
brokers are pronounced a nuisance. Having nothing 
to lose, they are reckless, unprincipled and dishonest. 

THE SEPULCHRE OF FORTUNES. 

The failures and reverses of mercantile life are com- 
mon to New York. Scarcely a firm stands that has 
been in business a quarter of a century. Stock spec- 
ulations underlie these failures. Gambling is not 
more seductive or more ruinous. The few who rise 
to sudden wealth by dabbling in stocks tempt the 
many to venture on this treacherous sea. Professional 
men of all classes and all grades, merchants, retired 
capitalists, trustees, widows, farmers, try their hand at 
gaining sudden wealth in Wall Street. Merchants who 
have a large balance in the bank, hotel men who have 
made monej^, salesmen and clerks, are tempted to make 
a venture, and bring only ruin on themselves, their 
families, and their employers. 

Men who live in Wall Street live fast, and grow 
prematurely old. They gamble in stocks all day. They 
renew the contest of Wall Street in the hotels at night. 
Sunday brings some of them no repose. They live high, 
drink deep, and the excitement in stocks during the 
day is exchanged for gaming at night. Bald heads on 
young men, premature gray hairs, nervous debility, 



In New York. 49 

paralysis and untimely decay, which mark so many 
of the business men of New York, with ruined fortunes 
and characters, show how perilous and unsatisfactory is 
life in AVall Street. 

HOW SHREWD MEN ARE RUINED. 

The sudden collapse of fortunes, closing of elegant 
mansions, the selling off of plate and horses at auction, 
the hurling of men down from first class positions to 
subordinate posts, is an every-day occurrence in New 
York. In almost every case these reverses result from 
outside trading, and meddling with matters foreign 
to one's legitimate business. The city is full of sharp 
rogues and unprincipled speculators, who lie awake 
nights to catch the unwarj^ None are more easily en- 
snared than hotel-keepers, and this is the way it is done: 
A well-dressed, good-looking man comes into a hotel, 
and brings his card as the president of some great 
stock company. In a careless, indifferent way he asks 
to look at a suite of rooms. He has previously ascer- 
tained that the proprietor has from fifty to a hundred 
thousand dollars in the bank waitino; for something: to 
turn up. The rooms shown are not good enough. He 
wants rooms that will accommodate certain distin- 
guished gentlemen, whom he names, who happen to 
be the well-known leading financiers of the great cities. 
A better suite is shown the president. The cost is 
high — one thousand dollars a month. But the rooms 
suit; he must accommodate his friends ; a few thousands 
one way or the other won't make much difference with 
his company ; so he concludes to take the rooms. The 
4 



50 Sunshine and Shadow 

landlord hints at references ; the president chuckles at 
the idea that //te should be called upon for references; 
he never gives any ; but if the landlord wants one or 
two thousand dollars, he can have it. " Let me see," the 
president says, very coolly, " I shall want these rooms 
about six months, off and on. I may be gone half the 
time, or more. If it's any accommodation to you, I will 
give you my check for six thousand dollars, and pay 
the whole thing up." Of course the landlord is all 
smiles, and the president takes possession. Before the 
six months are out, from fifty to a hundred thousand 
dollars of the landlord's money goes into the hands of 
the speculator, and a lot of worthless stock is locked 
up in the safe of the hotel. 

Another scheme is equally successful. The rooms 
are taken, and the occupant is the most liberal of 
guests. Champagne suppers and costly viands are 
ordered without stint, and promptly paid for. Coaches 
with liveried drivers and footmen, hired for the occa- 
sion, leave imposing cards at the hotel. The obsequi- 
ous landlord and well-feed steward pay especial atten- 
tion to the wants of the liberal guest. Waiters lly at 
his command, and the choicest tit-bits are placed before 
him. Picking his teeth after breakfast while the land- 
lord is chatting with him some Saturday morning when 
it rains, he expresses a wish, rather indifferently, that 
he had fifty thousand dollars. His banker won't be 
home till Monday — don't care much about it — get 
it easy enough going down town — wouldn't go out in 
the rain for twice the sum — indifferent about it, and 
yet evidently annoyed. The landlord goes into his 



In New York. 51 

office and examines his bank account, and finds lie 
can spare fifty thousand dolhirs, without any incon- 
venience, till Monday. Glad to accommodate his dis- 
tinguished guest, who is going to bring all the 
moneyed men to his hotel, he hands over the money, 
which is refused two or three times before it is taken. 
On Monday morning the hotel man finds that his 
distinguished tenant has put a Sabbath between him- 
self and pursuit. Such tricks are played constantly, 
and new victims are found every day. 



52 Sunshine and Shadow 



IV. 

ALEXANDER T. STEWART. 

HIS EARLY LIFE. ACCIDENT OF SUCCESS. — NOT 'SVELL INFORMED. — MR. 

STEWART IN HIS DOWN-TOWN OFFICE. — HIS SHREWDNESS AND TACT. 

HIS HOME ON FIFTH AVENUE. ACCESS TO MR. STEWART NOT EASY. 

MR. STEWART AS A MASTER. 



Mr. Stewart was born in Ireland. Ills home was a 
humble one. He inherited a good constitution, was 
gifted with energy and indomitable perseverance, 
blended with o;reat shrewdness. His education was 
fiiir. Two pious Scotch women interested themselves 
greatly in his welfare. They hoped to see him in the 
pulpit. For the sacred profession he made some 
preparations. It is said that even now, amid his 
immense business, he keeps np his classical readings. 
He has been heard to sav, notwithstandinn;: his con- 
ceded success in mercantile life, he has doubts whether 
he had not mistaken his calling, and would not have 
done better in some other sphere. In 1825 he studied 
the languages, nnder the tuition of a celebrated actor. 
He then looked towards teachingr as a means of 
livelihood, and perhaps had not abandoned the idea of 
entering the sacred profession. 

He married, quite early, a Miss Cornelia Church, of 
New York, abandoned his literary pursuits, and became a 
trader in a small way. A little sum of money was left 



I' 



In New York. 53 

him by a relative in Ireland. He set up store in a 
small room nearly opposite his present down-town 
establishment. His shop was a little affair, only twelve 
feet front. It was separated from its neighbor by a 
thin partition, through which all conversation could 
be beard. The store stood on what is now known as 
2G2 Broadway. He tended shop from fourteen to 
eighteen hours a day. He was his own errand boy, 
porter, book-keeper, and salesman. He kept house in 
the humblest style. He lived over his store ; and for 
a time one room served as kitchen, bed-room, and 
parlor. His bed was hidden from view, being enclosed 
within a chest or bureau. As Mr. Stewart attended to 
the store, so Mrs. Stewart attended to the work of the 
house. The increase of business demanded assistants. 
These he boarded, and to acconnnodate them more 
room was required. So he added to his single room. 
He afterwards kept house in chambers on Hudson 
Street, his income not warrantino; the takimrof a whole 

' <D CD 

house. His style of living was very plain in his 
furniture and table. Hardly a laborer among us to-day 
would live as plainly as Mr. Stewart lived when he 
began his public career. But Mr. Stewart always lived 
within his income, whatever that income was. 

THE ACCIDENT OF SUCCESS. 

Mr. Stewart began business when merchants rehed 
upon themselves. It was not easy to obtain credit. 
Banks were few and cautious. Bankruptcy was 
regarded as a disgrace and a crime. Traders made 
money out of their customers, and not out of their 
creditors. To an accident, which would have swamped 



54 Sunshine and Shadow 

most men, Mr. Stewart is indebted for Ws peculmr style 
of business nnd his colossal fortune. While do.ng 
business in his little store, a note became due,w nch he 
was unable to pay. A shopkeeper, with a miscellaneous 
stock of goods, not very valuable, in a store t^'^ve feet 
front, had little to hope fro.n the banks H,s friends 
were short. He resolved not to be dishonored. He 
met the crisis boldly. His indomitable will, shrewd- 
ness, and energy came out. He resolved not only to 
protect his note, but protect himself from bemg agam 
In such a position. He marked every article in us 
store down below the wholesale price. He flooded the 
city with hand-bills, originating the selling-ofl-at.cost 
style of advertising. He threw his handbills by thou- 
sands into the houses, basements, stores, steamboats, 
and hotels of the city. He told his story to the publ^ ; 
what he had, and what he proposed to sell. He 
promised them not only bargains, but that every article 
would be found just what it was guaranteed to be. 
He took New York by storm. He created a furore 
among housekeepers. The little shop was crowded 
with suspicious and halfbelieving persons in search of 
bargains. Mr. Stewart presided in person. He said 
but^ittle, offered his goods, and took the cash. To all 
attempts to beat him down, he quietly pointed to the 
plainly-written price on each package. He had hardly 
time to eat or sleep. His name became a household 
word on every lip. Persons bought the goods wen 
home, and examined them. They found not only that 
they had not been cheated, but had really got b.argains 
They spread the news from house to house. Excited 
New York filled Mr. Stewart's shop, and crowded the 



In New York. 55 

pavement in front. Long before the time named in 
the handbill for stopping the sale, the ^vllole store was 
cleaned out, and everv article sold for cash. The 
troublesome note was paid, and a handsome balance left 
over. Mr. Stewart resolved to purchase no more on 
credit. , The market was dull, cash scarce, and he was 
enabled to fill up his store with a choice stock of goods 
at a small price. In that little shanty on Broadway he 
laid the solid foundation of that colossal fortune which 
towers to the height of thirty millions. 

HIS STYLE OF BUSINESS. 

Though Mr. Stewart sells goods on credit, as do other 
merchants, he buys solely for cash. If he takes a note, 
instead of getting it discounted at a bank, he throws it 
into a safe, and lets it mature. It does not enter into 
his business, and the non-payment of it does not disturb 
him. He selects the stjde of carpet he wants, buys 
every yard made by the manufacturer, and pays the 
cash. He monopolizes high-priced laces, silks, costly 
goods, furs, and gloves, and compels the fashionable 
world to pay him tribute. Whether he sells a first- 
rate or a fourth-rate article, the customer gets what he 
bargains for. A lady on a journey, who passes a couple 
of days in the city, can find every article that she 
wants for her wardrobe at a reasonable price. She can 
have the goods made up in any style, and sent to her 
hotel at a given hour, for the opera, a ball, or for travel. 
Mr. Stewart will take a contract for the complete outfit 
of a steamship or steamboat, like the Europa or the St. 
John, furnish the carpets, mirrors, chandelier, china, 
silver ware, cutlery, mattresses, linen, blankets, napkins, 



gg SUNSHME AND SHADOW 

with every article needed, in any style demanded He 
Ian defy competition. He buy. from the mauuactones 
Tthe lowest cash price. He presents the ong.nal b.Us, 
Llging only a sm'all commission. Tl.e part.es have^o 
trouble; the articles are of the first class, they sa^e 
om te'n to twenty per cent., and the small co_.on 
pays Stewart handsomely. He f""-'-^ , 1^°' ' Vlf^ 
^Jhnrches in the same manner. He could ^,pply the 
army and navy as easily as he could fit out 
steamship. 

NOT WELL INFOR^MED. 

The late William Beecher told me that Mr. Stewart 
bou'At many goods of him when he first set up for 
hin^elf One day Mr. Stewart came into h,s store, and 
s k o him, privftely, " Mr. Beecher, a lady came mto 
::y sLe toiy and'ashed me to show her sonre hos. 
I did not know what the goods were, and I toW her 1 
did not keep the article. What did she want? Mi- 
Beecher pohrted to a box of stockings that stood before 
S'em. The young tradesman looked, laughed, and 
departed. 

'■ j^ j,ig BOWS-TOWN OFFICE. 

He attends personally to his own business. His 
office is a small room in his down-town store, ^o 
,nerch.ant in New York spends as many hours at h.. 
business as Mr. Stewart. He is down early, and 
remains late. Men who pass through Broadway dunng 
the small hours of the night may see the Ugh burnmg 
bri.*tly from the working-room of the marble pa ace. 
He°remains till the day's work is closed, and everythmg 
is squared up. He knows what is in the store, and not 
X6 B^uai i- ^ TT^ oplk i-eadilv without 

a package escapes his eye. He sellh leaaiiy w 



In New York. 57 

consulting book, invoice, or salesman. lie has partners, 
but they are partners only in the profits. lie can buy 
and sell as he will. lie holds the absolute manage- 
ment of the concern in his own hands. His office is 
on the second story, and separated from the sales-room 
by a glass partition which goes half way to the ceiling 
Here he is usually to be found. Else he is walking 
about the store, with a quiet tread, as if his foot wiis 
clothed with velvet, — up stairs and down stairs, all 
around, with a keen, quick, vigilant eye, searching in 
all places and all departments, taking in everybody 
and everything as he passes. 

ACCESS TO MR. STEWART ]S"OT EASY. 

It is difficult to gain access to the princely merchant. 
Any man who has run the gauntlet once v.^ill not be 
fond of repeating the experiment. On entering the 
main door, a gentleman stands guard, who says, " What 
is 3'our business, sir?" You reply, "I wish to see Mr. 
Stewart." "Mr. Stewart is busy; what do you want?" 
"I wish to see him personally, on private business." 
" Mr. Stewart has no private business. You cannot 
see him unless you tell me what you want." If the 
guard is satisfied, you are allow^ed to go up stairs. 
Here vou are met bv sentinel No. 2, — a larijje, full-faced, 
bland-Iookino; o-entleman, — who is Mr. Stewart's con- 
fidential agent, though at one time one of the judges 
of our courts. He examines and cross-examines you. 
If he cannot stave you off, he disappears into the 
office, and reports your case to his chief Probably 
Mi\ Stewart will peer at you through the plate glass. 
If he does not consider you of consequence enough to 



58 



Sunshine and Shadow 



• I 4 ,,.„=. owiv slinu'-n-uio; his shoulders, 
invite you m, he turns ana\, simi,„ „ 

, 1,1, vofiisil bv the guard. It 

ancJ sends a snappish ^'^"'f ' ^ . , . ° „„ „■ 
other^vise, you enter, and face the hon ui his den. H.s 
'vhole nia;ner is hard and repulsive. He s of the average 
hei<^ht, slim, with a decided Hibernian face; sandy hair 
„eaV-d ; sharp, cold, avaricious features; a clear, cold 
eye; a fac; furrowed with thought, care, and success; a 
voice har.h and unfriendly in its most mellow tones 
He could easily be taken for hi« book-keeper or po ter 
He meets you with the air of a man who is impatien 
from interruption ; who wishes you to sny your say and 
be gone. He lives wholly by himself His wife has 
borne him no children; he has probably not a bosom 
friend in the world. Some men find then- pleasure in 
dress, in dissipation, in drinking, in amusements, m 
travel in parties, theatres, operas. Stewart finds his ni 
ard vorl. Business is his idol, his pleasure, Ins profit 
He revels in it. Approaching his eightieth year, he i 
indomitable, persevering, and enterprising as when he 
commenced trade. 

STEWART AS A ISIASTER. 

He is a hard master, and his store is ruled by des- ^ 

„otic law. His rules are inexorable, and must be obeyed 

£ store is regarded as the hospital for decayed^ 

merchants. Nearly every prominent man in his w ole- 

,ale store has been in business for himself, and failed. 

All the better for Mr. Stewart, Such a man has a 

circle of acquaintances, and can influence trade. f he 

failed without dishonor, he is sure of a position in M.. 

Stewart's store. No factory is run with more e^aetne^- 

No package enters or leaves the store without a ticket. 



In New York. 69 

On one occasion Mr. Stewart himself left directions to 
have a shawl sent up to his house, which Mrs. Stewart 
was to wear at a soiree. He forgot to place a ticket 
upon the package, and to the imperious law of the store 
the shawl had to yield. He regards his employees as 
cogs in the complicated machinery of his establishment. 
A New York fireman is quite as tender of his machine. 
The men are numbered and timed. There is a penalty 
attached to all delinquencies. It takes all a man can 
earn for the first month or so to pay his fines. He is 
fined if he exceeds the few minutes allotted to dinner. 
He is fined if he eats on the premises. He is fined if 
he sits durino; business hours. He is fined if he comes 
late or goes early. He is fined if he misdirects a 
bundle. He is fined if he mistakes a street or number. 
He is fined if he miscounts the money, or gives the 
"wronti; chano-e. 

HIS SHREWDNESS AND TACT. 

He has always kept in advance of the age. During 
the last twentv vears he has ruined himself, in the 
estimation of his friends, a hundred times. He bought 
the site for his down-town store airainst their most 
earnest expostulations. It was too far up town. It was 
on the shilling side of Broadway. No man could do a 
successful business there. The price paid was exorbi- 
tant. The proposed mammoth store would be the 
laughing-stock of the age, and woidd be known as 
" Stewart's Follv." As usual, he relied on his own, 
judgment. He believed the investment to be a good 
one. He told his friends that it would be the centre 
of trade; that on the dollarsidc or on the shilling side 



go Sunshine and Shadow 

of the street he intended to create a business that 
would compel New York and all the -S»" - ^^^^ 
trade with him. He is not a hberal man, bu s do 
nation, to public objects are pnnce ly. Tax-gathe e , 
national, state, and county, say tha no man pay h 
assessments more fairly or more cheerfully. If he s 
hard, he is just He keeps his contracts, pays what 
nominated in the bond, and no more. 

HI8 HOME ON FIFTH AVENUE. 

He is a shrewd buyer of real estate. He has pur- 
chased nrore churches than any man nr the c.ty He 
buys when the church is crippled, and gets a b.rga n 
boU n price and location. His stable on Am>ty 
Seetw-is for many years the celebrate B^p. 
church where Dr. Williams officiated The Uutcl 
due on Ninth Street wanted a P-*-"" /^^'^ 
an ells were made to Mr. Stewart. He had bough 
^ad iots in that neighborhood. When Je pn-h- 
the church was complete, it was found that he had tl.e 
ase of the entire block, and on it his mammoth «p-to..a 
'toe now stands. Lafayette Place, once a faslnonable 
c i y, .vas occupied by saloons, restaurants, gambhng- 
ois^'andhousesforboarding. governor Morgan W 
a residence there .drich he ^vanted to g« "J ^f 
Stewart took compassion on h,m -«\''«"f;\ ^^ "^ 
Persons wondered what Stewart wanted "f ^^^^ y^* 
house, in that out-of-the-way spot. Short y afte , D • 
.Osgood's church .as for -!«, on B^-oadway A^r ^t 
V,nrl been in the market a long tnne, btewaii u 
it pulaser. It «s found that the church lot poured 



In New York 61 

vAQ Lafayette Place lot, making a magnificent site, 
running from street to street, for a huge store. 

The leading desire of fashionable New York is to 
get a double house or a double lot on Fifth Avenue. 
Such accommodations are rare, and fabulous prices are 
paid for land or dwelling. On the corner of Fifth 
Avenue and Thirty-fourth Street stood a famous house, 
occupying, with the garden, three lots of land. It was 
built by a successful sarsaparilla man. It was the 
largest in New York, built of brown stone, as gorgeous 
and inconvenient as an Eastern pagoda. It cost fabu- 
lous sums. It was large enough for a hotel, and showy 
enough for a prince. It was burnished with gold and 
silver, and elaborately ornamented with costly paint- 
ings. It was the nine days' wonder in the city, and 
men and women crowded to see it at twenty-five cents 
a head. The owner fiiiled, and the house passed out of 
his hands. It became a school, with no success. 

One mornino" the residents of the avenue were 
astonished to see a staging built up against this famous 
pile, reaching to the roof They were more astonished 
when they learned that this gorgeous pile was to come 
down; that its foundations were to be dug up ; that a 
marble palace was to be erected on that site that would 
make all Shoddydom red with envy ; that its furniture, 
statuary, paintings, and adornments would exceed any 
house on the continent. Many lessons are taught by 
the career of Mr. Stewart. It is worth while, on a fine 
morning, to pause on the Broadway pavement, and 
watch the small coupe that drives up to the curbstone, 
drawn by a single horse; to mark the occupant, as with 



Q2 Sunshine and Shadow 

alight tread and buoyant step he comes f~™ the ca^ 
ri.fe and enters his store. He ,s an old man, but looks 
kf a young one. He began life penndess, and ha 
id up a fortune greater than that ever before 
eicte/by any one man. Hi-ercantde career ha 
been an upward one; his whole life a success. He k^^ 
earned the title he wears. He is the autocrat of ^ew 
York merchants. 



In New York. 63 



V. 

A SHODDY PARTY. 

ITS BUILLIANT OPENING. — ITS FAILURE. 

One of the citizens of New York was a hatter. He 
earned a very good Hving at the business. His wife 
made vests for a fiishionable tailor. She made them 
well, and by her industry added very much to the 
comfort of the household. By one of those sudden 
j turns of fortune Avhich overtake men in this city, the 
man found himself in possession of quite a sum of 
money. He abandoned hatting, and his wife gave up 
making vests. He bought a house in an up-town 
neighborhood. His wife projDOsed an entree into good 
society by giving a large party. The hatting and tailor- 
ing acquaintances were to be ignored. They had no 
others. A new order of associates was to be made 
through the part}'. Had these people understood the 
w\ay of doing things in New York, they would have 
gone to Brown, of Grace Church, paid him a handsome 
fee, and he would have stocked their parlors with all 
the company desirable. Instead of this, they took the 
Directory, selected five hundred names, among whom 
were some of the most prominent of our citizens, and 
sent out invitations, right and left, for an evening 
named. No expense was spared to make the occasion 
a great one. The house was gaudily furnished. The 



g4 Sunshine and Shadow 

ladies - mother and daughter - were expensively and 
I 1 nWv nttired The table was laid by one of the 
tT:^lT^t^^-o.il. was engaged for the ™ns,. 
«:« were ealled in, dressed in the e" ^-^^^^^ 

all they are worth for a ticket to a ball party recep- 
i or for a levee where great folks are to be, brvt 
r; rill not accept n^iscellaneous inv.toUons thong 
there is plenty to eat. The persons who got up u 
try were unknown. Strings of young men d„ ted 
bfthe house during the evening. Brdhantly hghted 
?f attracted general attention. But the bell was sdent, 
and thfsteps deserted. The curious could see anx.ons 
; s n! peering through the cracks of the b nd. a^the 
Lssers by, supposing themselves unobserved. At a 
C Tour he gas was turned off. Dunug the who e 
ten " the pfrlors were deserted, the splen id table 
:Zched,and the family, late at n>^;'. -^^^Jj 
couches, with feelings better miagmed than described 
The candidates for fashionable society were sadly 
disappointed. 



In New York. 65 



VI. 

MRS. BURDELL-CUNNINGHAM. 

MRS. CUNNINGHAM AS A HOUSEKEEPER. ASA WIDOW. HER MARRIAGE. — 

HER DAUGHTERS. 

The noted premises, 31 Bond Street, in this city, 
were occupied by Dr. Harvey Burdell. He was a 
dentist, lived in good style, and was reputed to be a 
I man of wealth, and a gentleman. He had a house- 
' keeper in the person of Mrs. Cunningham, to whose 
I character and position he was no stranger. He had 
known her from her youth. She was reputed to be 
clever, and to have talents. She was poor, with no 
visible means of support, and with grown-up daughters 
on her hands. She kept house for Dr. Burdell, and 
entertained such company as she chose to receive. 
She lived in luxury, and passed her summers among 
the gay and fashionable at Newport and Saratoga. 
One morning the murdered form of Dr. Burdell was 
found lying upon the carpet in his office, weltering in 
his blood. The family who occupied the upper part of 
the house were absent. Men of political distinction had 
rooms over Dr. Burdell's apartments. They came in 
at eleven o'clock at night, and all w^as still. There was 
no noise or outcry ; no struggle heard during the night 
All eyes turned in search of the murderer. The public 
voice cried for justice. Every ear was alive to the 
5 



gg Sunshine and Shadow 

till he stands at the bar of God. 

MRS. CUNNINIGHAM AS A WIDOW. 

1 +T.r,f Dr "Burdell was dead, his 

When it was known that Dr. i^urueii 

h.s '«^"S'«\^«'g,'/Xtl,,a herself in deep mournmg, 

"'TtookTe mi of i- husband. She was tried for 
and took the name ui 1 Shp went from 

the n^urder of Dr. Bunlell, a-Ucci«,t ed. ^^^^^ 
the Tombs to the house of D Burde ^ < I 

it and furnished it in great style. She -- ^« 

,.,„,.te ^^^-:^z:'::^ij^' .... have 

!::u::d\e:s*^ Srthe matter .as on triai a trap 
gran ea . ^^^.^^ attorney and other., 

was laid fo'- '^^^ y \ „f ^ fo„o,.able decision 

into which she fe 1. ^'^^^^ "„,.„,,„,,. She was in- 
i„ her case was dashed *» '- =^;, ;„ ,,^, Tombs, 
dieted by the grand J'"^; ' f ^/^^^^j^, clamor and 
bail denied her in obedience o po n, ^^^^ 

public indignation, although the cume 
^as indicted was clearly a bailable one. 



HEU }*IARRIAGE. 



On her trial before the surrogate, the confusion 
On her triai ^nntndictory statements of 

.-ant of self-possession, ^^'\l°^\^^'lJ,^,,, „« alter- 
the ofliciating '''-f -^^,;, ;to;!;"Th;statement of 
native but to reject his testimony. „edding, 

the daughter that she was present at the wed g, 



In New York. 67 

availed nothing. Yet, if human testimony can be re- 
hecl on, and any marriage can be proved, it is very 
certain that Dr. Burdell was married to Mrs. Cunning- 
ham. The officiating clergyman was Rev. Mr. Marvin, 
then settled over the Bleecker Street Reformed Dutch 
Church. Outside of the court-room his testimony is 
clear, consistent, and positive. He expresses himself 
as positive that he married the parties as that he is 
married himself. The circumstances connected with the 
marriage were such as to make it morally impossible 
that he could have been deceived. Dr. Burdell visited 
Mr. Marvin's house in Hudson Street, one pleasant 
afternoon, and made arrangements for the proposed 
marriage. It was a clear, bright day, and the sun was 
shining in the parlors. Dr. Burdell stated his wishes, 
told where he resided, what his business was, what his 
purposes were, and informed him that as soon as his 
business would permit, after his marriage, lie intended 
to travel in Europe. He made quite a visit. At the 
appointed time, the same party, accompanied by Mrs. 
Cunningham, came to his house, and was married. 
One of the daughters accompanied her mother. The 
marriage Avas not hurried, and the parties remained 
some time in conversation. A few days after the mar- 
riage. Dr. Burdell called for a certificate. He remained 
some time in easy general conversation. He examined 
the certificate carefully, and pointed out some errors in 
it, which were corrected. He leisurely departed, carry- 
ing the certificate with him. The same person who 
made the arrans-ement for the marriag-e, and w'as mar- 
ried at the time agreed upon, and who subsequently 
called for the certificate and carried it away, was known 



gg Sunshine and Shadow 

to be the very person ^vho wa. ™-'^-f -gf;^^^ 
Street, and who was carried to h>s b"™ - ^ ;^Harvey 
Burdell. Just before the marriage tes Ufied to by Mr. 
Zlin, Dr. Burdell visited Saratoga wi,^. Mrs. Cunn.g- 
l,nm ind took rooms at Congress Hall. A daugMei 
o Mrs Cunningham was at the Seminary kept by Rev. 
Dr Beecl er. The next morning after the arrival, D. 
?:i and Mrs. Cunnin,.m .site^ ^ f r^'^e 
if BtdThTpaM Ih'^itcUuitiln bills of the 
vounriady He now stated to Dr. Beecher that he 
ha fome up to make arrangements for the e.xpenses 
; he young'lady during his absence fro,n the country 
as he expected soon to sail for Europe He made 
■ a rangements for Dr. Beecher to draw on New lork o 
the monthly and quarterly payments as they sho Id 
lecone due. He stated that his absence from the 
country would nrake no difference with the regdar 
payment of the bills. Mrs. Cunningham was m the 
room while these arrangements were bemg made. 
Turning towards Mrs. Cunningham, Dr. Beecher^ocose- 
Iv said °' I presume you do not intend to go to Europe 
alone"' Dr. Burdell replied by a loud laugh, a shrug- 
gin, of the shoulders, and other indications, that he 
f„t:nded to take the lady with him Mrs. Cunnmgham 
was silent, but smiled, and blushed an assent. These 
facts did not come out on the trial. 

HER DATJOHTEKS. 

While in prison, Mrs. Cunningham was confined in 
a small, narrow cell, which was fulV of bugs, fleas, and 
vermin and which was lighted by a hole m the wall 



In New York. 69 

for a window. Three persons could scarcely remain in 
the cell at one time. She seemed to be about forty 
years of age ; stout, but well formed, very tasty in her 
dress, hair raven black, eyes .sharp and sparkling, hand- 
some features, complexion pale, and her whole contour 
attractive and handsome. Crowded into this narrow 
cell were her two daughters. Their devotion to their 
mother was remarkable. They shut themselves out 
from society, and passed every day in the close and 
heated cell. In prison and out they worked for their 
own and their mother's support. Handsome, and pol- 
ished in their manners, every one spoke well of them 
for their quiet and modest deportment. The jailer 
never flung open the gates of the prison so early in the 
morning that he did not find these daughters outside 
waiting for admission. When the iron doors closed on 
their mother at nig;ht, the officers had to use force to 
put them on the pavement, over which they trod to 
find some friendly shelter for the night, only to return 
at early dawn and renew their toil in the society of 
their mother. There are millionnaires in New York 
who would give half their fortune to receive from their 
children such assurances of filial affection. 



-Q Sunshine and Shadow 



VII. 

SHARP BUSINESS, AND ITS VALUE. 

,,,,^<,, _TWO MACADAMIZED KOADS.- CASKS IX POTXT. - 

.wok:kdso.b.si.kss. t ^^^^^^^_,,,, shakpbks.-max.x- 

A HARD CREDITOR. — A SHARP 
MONIAL SHARPNESS. 

T«EKE are two kinds of business men, and two kinds 
There are t« old-school merchants of 

N TTa" tw. Their ranks are thinning every 
f Thev were distinguished for probity and honor. 
Tlfey ri' time to m.4e a fortune. Their success 
They t°°'^/ integrity and mercantile honesty 

proved that b"«i"«^ >"*'^- [ ^^^, fortunes and 

■wprp a srood capital. iiieii cuiv^.^ 
r„d u-in/fame p^ve that to be successful men need 
Tot be mean, faL, or dishonest. Astor, Cooper, Dodge 
Stewart Stulrt Brothers, the Phelpses, in business, are 
IrsentatWes of the same class. When John Jacob 
!«'"' leading merchant in New York he w.s 
To, the few merchants who could ^^^y ^^^^^J^'^. 
car<.o A large dealer in teas knowmg that few mer 
ch^rtscould Outbid him, or purchase a cargo, concluded 
to buy a whole ship-load that had just arrived and ,vas 
Offered at auction. He had nobody to compete wi h, 
andhe expected to have everything his own way. 
Just before the sale commenced, to his consternation 
he saw Mr. Astor walking leisurely down the wharf. 



In New York. 71 

He went to meet liim, and said, " Mr. Astor, I am 
sorry to see you here this morning. If you will go to 
your counting-room, and stay till after the sale, I'll give 
you a thousand dollars." Without thinking much about 
it, Mr. Astor consented, turned on his heel, and said, 
" Send round the check." He found that he had made 
one thousand dollars, and probably had lost ten thousand 
dollars. But he kej)t his word, and that is the way he 
did his business. 

The lease of the Astor House ran out some time 
since. Just before it expired some parties from Boston 
tried to hire the Astor House on the sly, over the heads 
of the Stetsons. In a private interview with Mr. Astor, 
they wanted to know his terms. He replied, " I will 
consult Mr. Stetson, and let you know. I always give 
my old tenants the preference." To consult Mr. Stet- 
son was to defeat the object they had in view, and they 
pressed it no farther. No one asks a guarantee of an 
old New York merchant that he will not cheat in the 
commodity which he sells. 

TWO MACADAMIZED ROADS. 

The path to success is plain. It can hardly be 
missed. Yet success is the exception. The road to 
commercial ruin is as broad and well known as Broad- 
way, yet if is crowded. Some men always get along. 
Throw them up anywhere and they will come down on 
their feet. Thus continued prosperity follows a well- 
known law. One of the best known presidents of one 
of our banks began his career by blacking boots. He 
came to New York a penniless lad, and sought employ- 
ment at a store. " What can you do ? " said the mer- 



72 Sunshine and Shadow 

chant. " I can do anything," said the boy. " Take 
these boots and black them, then." He did so, and he 
bkacked them well ; and he did everything else well. 
Quite a young man has been promoted to be cashier 
over one of our leading banks, and that over older 
men. His associates dined at Delmonico's. He ate a 
frugal dinner daily in one of the rooms of the bank. 
Industry, integrity and pluck are at a premium in New 
York. Men envy Stewart's success who never think 
of imitating his toil, or his business integrity. Mr. 
Claflin, the rival of Stewart, works more hours a day 
than he requires any employee to do. Till quite 
recently he made his own deposits in the bank. Yet 
defalcations are many. Cases of embezzlement abound. 
Kevelations of fraud are daily and startling. Men of 
high standing are thrown down, and desolation carried 
to their homes. Dishonesty, rash speculations, stock 
gambling, expensive horses, with women, wine, fast and 
high living, tell the story. Most of our large houses 
and enterprising merchants and rich men have at one 
time or another gone under. Many such have taken 
off their coats, rolled up their sleeves, and gone at it 
again, seldom without success. Many have given up 
hope, and taken to the bottle. New York is full of 
wrecks of men, who, because they could not pay their 
notes, have flung away character, talent and all. 

CASES IN POINT. 

In one of the tenement-houses in this city, a benev- 
olent lady, searching for a poor family, found a woman, 
who, two years before, was a leading belle at one of the 
fashionable watering-places. She had been lost sight 



In New York. 73 

of for a year by her fashionable acquaintances. She 
did not appear in her accustomed haunts. When found, 
she occupied rooms in a crowded tenement-house in 
the lower part of New York. Her story was the old 
one — business reverses, the bottle, poverty and want, 
like armed men. On the floor of the room, rolled up 
in rags, in a corner, lay her husband, a degraded sot. 
Two years before he was a bright and successful 
merchant. 

A HARD CREDITOR. 

In one of the small streets of lower New York, where 
men who are " hard up " congregate, where those who 
do brokerage in a small way have a business location, a 
name can be read on a small tin sign, that is eminently 
suofo-estive. The man who has desk-room in that 
locality I have known as a leading merchant in New 
York. His house was extensive, his business large. 
He was talked of as the rival of Stewart. No store in 
New York was more celebrated. He was sharp at a 
trade, and successful. He was a hard creditor, and un- 
relenting. He asked no favors, and granted none. It 
was useless for a debtor to appeal to him. " Settle, 
sir ! " he would say, in a sharp, hard manner, " settle, 
sir ! How will I settle ? I will settle for a hundred 
cents on the dollar, sir." Nothing could induce him to 
take his iron grasp oft' of an unfortunate trader. Over 
his desk was a sign, on which was painted in large 
letters, " No Compromise." He answered all appeals 
by pointing to the ominous words, with his long, bony 
fingers. His turn came. He went under — deep. All 
New York was glad. 



Y4 Sunshine and Shadow 

A SHARP MERCHANT. 

In travelling,! passed the night with a wealthy mer 
chant. His name on 'change was a tower o strengt . 
He had made his fortnne, and was proud of it. He .aid 
he conld retire from business if he would, have^ a fb^ 
tune for himself to spend, and settle one on his wife 
and children. He was very successful, but very severe. 
He was accounted one of the shrewdest merchants m 
the city. But he had no tenderness towards debtors. 
In the day of his prosperity he was celebrated for 
demanding the full tale of brick, and the fdl pound of 
flesh A few months after I passed the night with hnn 
he became bankrupt. His wealth fled m a day. He 
had failed to settle the fortune on his wife and chndren 
and they were penniless. He was treated harshly, and 
was summarily ejected from the institutions over which 
he presided. He complained bitterly of the mgratitude 
of men who almost got down on their knees to ask 
favors of him when he was prosperous, and who spurned 
and reviled him when he fell. If in the day of his 
prosperity he had been kinder and less exactmg, he 
might have found friends in the day of his adversity. 

TWO SHARPERS. 

A noted sportsman, taking dinner at one of our clubs, 
exhibited a diamond ring of great beauty and apparent 
value on hi^ finger. A gentleman present had a great 
passion for diamonds. After dinner, the parties met m 
the office After much bantering, the owner consented 
to barter the ring for the sum of six hundred dollars. 
As the buyer left the room, a suppressed tittering 



In New York. 75 

struck his ear. lie concluded that the former owner 
had sold both the ring and the purchaser. He said 
nothing, but called the next day upon a jeweller, 
where he learned that the diamond was paste, and the 
ring worth about twenty-five dollars. He examined 
some real diamonds, and found one closely resembling 
the paste in his own ring. He hired the diamond for a 
few days, pledged twelve hundred dollars, the price of 
it, and save a hundred dollars for its use. He went to 
another jeweller, had the paste removed, and the real 
diamond set. His chums, knowing how he had been 
imposed upon, impatiently waited for his appearance 
the next night. To their astonishment they found 
him in high glee. He flourished his ring, boasted of 
his bargain, and said if any gentleman present had a 
twelve hundred dollar ring to sell for six hundred dol- 
lars, he knew of a purchaser. When he was told that 
the ring was paste, and that he had been cheated, he 
laughed at their folly. Bets were freely offered that 
the ring did not contain a real diamond. Two men bet 
a thousand dollars each. Two bet five hundred dollars. 
All were taken : umpires were chosen. The money and 
the ring were put into their hands. They went to a 
first-class jeweller, who applied all the tests, and who 
said the stone was a diamond of the first water, and 
was worth, without the settino;, twelve hundred dollars. 
The buyer put the three thousand dollars which he had 
won quietly in his pocket. He carried the diamond 
back and recalled his twelve hundred dollars, and with 
his paste ring on his finger w^ent to his club. The 
, man who sold the riuo; was waitino; for him. He 
I wanted to get the ring back. He attempted to turn 



Y^ Sunshine and Shadow 

the whole thing into a joke. He sold the ring he .aid 
for fun. He knew that it was a real diamond all the 
Sme He never wore false jewels. He could tell a 
real diamond anywhere by its peculiar hgh. He 
would not be so mean as to cheat an old friend. He 
knew his friend would let him have the ring again. 
But his friend was stubborn - said that he seller 
thought that it was paste, and intended to defraud him 
At length, on the payment of eight hundred dollars, the 
rino- was restored. All parties came to the conclusion 
when the whole affair came out, that when diamond 
cuts diamond again some one less sharp will be selected. 

MATKIMONIAL SHARPNESS. 

New York merchants frequently sell their daughters 
as well as their goods. It is quite a common thing to 
put respectability and standing against money.^ One 
of our most unscrupulous politicians became rich, as 
such men do sometimes. He wanted respectability and 
social position. He proposed to attain them through a 
reputable marriage. He proposed for the hand of one 
of the fair dam,sels of Gotham. His pohtica position 
was high, his future prospects dazzling. The lady s 
father, with mercantile frankness, offered the hand ot 
his daughter, on condition that a hundred thousand 
dollars were settled upon her, secured by real estate. 
The proposal was accepted, and the wedding prepara- 
tions went on. An elegant house, in an anstocra ic 
locality, wa. purchased. It was fitted up m great style. 
The young lady was congratulated on her fine pros- 
pects More than once, as the time drew near for the 
marriage, the father hinted that the little preliminary 



In New York. 77 

transaction sliould be attended to. " 0, yes ! 0, yes ! 
Certainly, certainly," the bland politician would say. 
His brother was absent ; the papers were not complete ; 
but it would be all ready before the marriage. It was 
not till the afternoon of the wedding that the papers, 
in due form, were laid before the gratified father. The 
wedding came off in great style. Marriage in high life 
greeted the eye in all the papers. A subsequent ex- 
amination showed that the property conveyed to the 
bride was covered with a mortgage of ninety-five thou- 
sand dollars. It bore date of the same day of the set- 
tlement, but was prior to it, and duly recorded before 
the settlement was made. The mortgage conveyed 
the property to a near and sharp relative of the bride- 
groom. On the return from the bridal trip, the party 
receiving the mortgage refused to deliver it up to the 
bridegroom, alleging that the mortgage was genuine, 
and that for it he had paid a legal consideration. 
Whether New York will be electrified with a lawsuit 
between the parties remains to be seen. 



78 



Sunshine and Shadow 



VIII. 
A NIGHT ON THE BATTERY. 

,„,. cTr>T!V THE TEMPTA- 

THE BATTEKY AS IT WAS. - A SOICIOE. - A DARK STORY. 

THE BATli^n T^RAFFIC IN FLESH AND BLOOD.— 

TION. — A RESCUE.— FORCED LOA^S. — TRAFFIC IN 

MADDENING EXTORTIONS. 

THE BATTERY AS IT WAS. 

Formerly the Battery was the pride of New York. 
It was never large, but it was a spot of great beauty. 
It opened on to our splendid bay. A granite promenade 
ran by the water-side. It was traversed by pa&s m all 
direclons. Trees, the growth of centunes, afforded a 
fine shade. A sea breeze came from the ocean, with 
health on its wings. Castle Garden was the resort of 
the fashionable and gay. The wealthy citizens of ^ew 
York and vicinity filled the Battery every pleasant after- 
noon. On every side were costly houses, the residences 
of the wealthy merchants. But now all is changed 
Trade has driven families up town. Castle Garden is 
an emigrant depot. The grass has disappeared, the iron 
fence i^ broken, the wall promenade near the sea gone 
to decay, freshly-arrived foreigners, ragged, tottered 
and drunken men and women sit under the old i-ees 
and the Battery is now as unsafe a place at night as 
can be found in the city. 



In New York. 79 



A SUICIDE. 



One night an officer, in citizen's clothes, was walking 
on the Battery. His attention was directed to a man 
walking back and foith on the old sea wall. His ap- 
pearance indicated great sorrow and desperation. The 
officer thought he intended suicide. He went up to 
the man, touched him lightly on the shoulder, and in a 
kind tone said, " Not to-night ; not now. The water is 
cold. You must not leave your wife and children. 
Don't take that great leap in the dark. Don't do it 
to-night." Aroused as from a reverie, in angry tones 
the man demanded of the officer, "Who are jou?" In 
an instant they recognized each other. The suicide 
exclaimed, "Good God! is it you? How came you 
here ? How did you know what I intended to do ? Let 
lis go and sit down. You shall know why I propose 
to throw away a life that is not worth keeping. I am 
daily in hell. I can endure my tortures no longer. I 
determined to-night to seek rest beneath the quiet wa- 
ters. You shall hear my tale, and judge for yourself." 

A DARK STORY. 

Seated on a bench by the side of the officer, the 
young man told his griefs. He said, " I came from my 
mountain home in New England, to seek my fortune in 
tliis city. My mother's prayers and blessing followed 
me. I resolved to do no dishonor to those who loved 
me and looked for my success. I entered a large mer- 
cantile store, and for a time did the menial work. I 
was industrious and ambitious, and resolved to rise. I 
did cheerfully and faithfully what was allotted to me. 
My advance was slow at first. I gained the confidence 



80 Sunshine and Shadow 

of my employers, and have risen to the position of con- 
fidential clerk I married a noble-hearted girl, ^vhom I 
Sie!^tL life, and for a time all things .vent well 

"""One' day, while at the store, I received a letter 
.vritten in a fine, delicate hand, asking for a oan of 
money for a short time. The writer regretted that 
Tecesfity which made it needful for her to ask for the 
Ln ; hut she was greatly reduced, ^ad -ney to pay 
and could not escape from her present difficulty unless 
TeJ friends (underscoring the word friends) would loan 
her a small sum, say fifty dollars, for a short tim. The 
letter was signed by a name unknown to me. The etter 
Sd at so'me indiscretions of mine and threatened 
an exposure unless the money was forthcoming. On 
innuir y, I found the woman to be one of those cold- 
blooded and heartless wretches that abound in New 
York who live on black mail. She was a notorion 
womin, and passed sometimes under one name and 
sometimes under another. I had seen her once, m 
company with some associates, but that was many years 
Z She kept a list of all her acquaintances, even of 
tho;e who w re casually introduced. My name is on 
; a list. Since the fetal hour I saw ber her eye ha 
never been off from me. She could afford to wa t. She 
Z watched my rise, and when I dare not refus^ ha^ 
made a levy on me, under the specious pietext ot 
a loan. 

THE TEMPTATION. 

" Mv true course would have been to have taken the 
letter to my employer, stated all the circumstances, and 
Solved his ad4e' I should have taken the letter to 



In 2Si'.v Y>:i:K. 81 

my wife, and then bade the vile creature do her worst ; 
or I should have seen you. placed the case in your 
hands, and ended the infamous career of this woman, 
at least for a time. I had not courage to do either. 
I was afraid of the exposure. Fifty dollars was a small 
sum, and if I could buy her silence for that, it would 
be cheaply bought I sent the money, and bade the 
woman trouble me no more. TTith the money I vras 
fool enough to send a letter. Armed with this evidence 
that I had complied with her demand, another loan was 
requested of a hundred dollars. For two years the 
leech has drawn upon me, keeping pace with my sup- 
posed business success. I have paid over two thou- 
.sand dollars, and received vesterdav a new call. I have 
taken monev from mv employers. Mv accounts are not 
correct I expect every day that an exposure will 
take place. I cannot witness the shame and agony of 
my family." 

A RESCUE. 

The officer led the j'oimg man to the police station. 
A note was dictated, and sent to the address of the 
woman, inviting her to an inters'iew at a place named, 
where the business would be completed to the satisfac- 
tion of all parties. Prompt on the time the woman 
made her appearance. She was attended by a " friend/' 
a noted pugilist of the city, burly, brazen, and strong, 
able to pummel the j^oung clerk to a jelly if he resisted 
the demands made upon him. Out of sight, but with- 
in hearing, were two officers. The whole matter was 
talked over, the past and the future. The whole story 
was given, confirming that told to the officer on the Bat- 
tery. The bargain was made, that if the young man 

6 



82 Sunshine and Shadow 

would pay one thousand dollars in instalments lie should 
be troubled no more. At the right moment the officers 
appeared and arrested the parties. Rather than go to 
the Tombs, the friend agreed to refund all the money 
that had been extorted from the clerk, signed a paper 
acknowledging all the facts in the case, and agreed to 
quit the city, which was done. 

FORCED LOANS. 

Women and men, in New York, live in style by loans 
forced from business men in the city. Young men who 
want to see New York life while they are young, and 
who think it is a very fine thing to sow their wild oats 
in early life, little know what a harvest they are to 
reap. On one of the very fashionable avenues in the 
city there stands the most fashionable and costly house 
of infamy on the continent, which was built and fur- 
nished by loans exacted from business men. It is a 
palace, unequalled except by the marble house of 
Stewart, and is adorned by statuary, paintings, and all 
that art and taste can suggest or monej' purchase. 
The proprietor of the mansion is one of the most noto- 
rious and infamous of women. She began life on the 
lowest round of the ladder. Soon she set up for a 
nurse. She opened a house for the reception of women 
who were about to become mothers before they were 
wives. Her next step was that of a female physician, 
whose practice was among the most debased and de- 
graded. She had practice in Boston, Philadelphia, and 
the South. She was often before the court on criminal 
charges. She was never convicted, though her hands 
were often stained with the blood of her victims. As 



In New York. 83 

she rose in wealth, she opened a home for the un- 
fortunate. In it, the sick that could pay had the most 
tender and delicate nursing. A young, sensitive, and 
intelligent girl, who had been enticed from home, found 
a kind and considerate friend in the hostess. It paid 
well to have this repute ; and when such an one was 
introduced by a man of substance or standing, the kind 
attention was doubled. Elegant rooms, costly furniture, 
delicacies of all kinds, quiet, well-dressed and obsequi- 
ous attendants waited the call of the invalid. No moth- 
er could watch the delicate and sobbing girl with more 
care than this vile woman. When rooms were ens-ao-ed, 
they were taken by some person without a name. As 
they were paid for the term of confinement in advance, 
it would make no difference to the keeper of the house 
who made the arrangements. Why should she care, so 
long as her pay is sure ? But there is a future for her ; 
and the party who comes in the darkness of the night, 
without a name, to engage rooms, will know that 
future to his cost. 

TRAFFIC IN FLESH AND BLOOD. 

Heavy as is the sum paid to this woman for the 
present care of the patient, the future is richer in gain. 
It is not the policy of these women to harm mother or 
child; avarice demands that the child live. In the 
hour of deep anguish and trial, all alone in a strange 
room, with the visions of home looming up, with shame 
and remorse burning their impress on the alabaster 
brow, with the prospect of death before her, the be- 
wildered child repays the tender care by becoming 
confidential. She names the party to whom her ruin 



84 



Sdnshine and Shadow 



is ascribed, and bids the woman take care of the Uttle 
comer should the young mother die. All the facts m 
the case gleaned from this death-pillow are carefully 
noted in a book kept for that purpose, with the names 
of the parties, their residence, place of busmess, and all 
needed particulars. The child is carefully protected. 
It is a living witness, and will be a source of great 
profit when the day of reckoning comes. The party 
who takes the child is interested in the establishment 
When loans are called for, it can be produced and 
identified at any moment, 

MADDENING EXTOKTIONS. 

Cured and discharged, the patient returns to society, 
marries, and settles down in life. The man pursues 
his business career with success. He becomes honored 
amont. merchants. His name stands high on change. 
He has a high social position. He becomes an ofiicer 
in some one of our benevolent, philanthropic, or re- 
ligious institutions. If he thinks of his early uidiscre- 
tions,he is glad to know that the great secret is locked 
in his own bosom. All this while his name is written 
in a book. There is one human eye that knows Ins 
down-sitting and his up-rising. With a himdred other 
names his can be read in the fxtal list. He is at the 
mercy of one of the shrewdest, roost abandoned, and 
desperate of women. She knows the mercantile value 
of every name on that list whom she has served ; 
knows their domestic, social, and commercial standing. 
Each one is her banker. She draws when she will. A 
man of business is surprised on receiving a call from a 
lady, who comes in her carriage on pressing busmess. 



In New York. 85 

Has he forgotten the person he met in a small, half- 
lighted room, with whom he transacted some business 
some months or years before? Or a polite note is 
received, signed by the woman, inviting him to an in- 
terview on urgent business; or, in polite terms, a loan 
is requested of a certain sum for a short time. Aston- 
ished and in terror, the demand is acceded to, only to 
be repeated with increased amount every year. I3ank- 
1' uptcy has followed this system of extortion. Men have 
fled their country, and gone into strange lands. Men 
have sought relief in suicide, rather than be disgraced. 
Not long since, an honored man, who had been elevated 
to the highest trusts our city can confer, sunk beneath 
the tyranny of extortion; his brain softened, and he 
passed prematurely away. Few have the least idea of 
the extent of this business, or of the number and stand- 
ing of the parties implicated. Elegant mansions are 
builded and maintained ; splendid teams and gilded 
equipages roll through Central Park ; liveried servants 
excite the envy of those less exalted ; — all which are 
supported by tributes wrung from persons who have 
a fair outside social standing. Could the roll be read, 
and the names pronounced. New York would be 
astonished, alarmed and convulsed, — hollow deceitful 
and wicked as the city is. 



86 SuNSIIIxNE AND ShADOW 



IX 



HENRY WARD BEECHER AND PLYM- 
OUTH CHURCH. 



-TEN- 



OKIGIN OF THE CHURCH. - PLYMOUTH CHURCH ON SUNDAY MORNING. 

MINUTE RULE. -MR. BEECHER IN THE PULPIT. - PECULIARITIES OF THE 
CHURCH. -HOW MR. BEECHER MANAGES IT. - THE INFLUENCE OF PLYM- 
OUTH CHURCH. -MR. BEECHER IN THE LECTURE-ROOM. - HIS CONVER- 
SION. — PERSONAL. — AS A PASTOR. 

ORIGIN OF THE CHURCH. 

On Saturday evening, May 8, 1847, a few gentlemen 
met in a parlor in Brooklyn. Their purpose was to 
form a new Congregational Church. They adopted this 
resolution: "That religious services should be com- 
menced, by divine permission, on Sunday, the 16th day 
of May." Dr. S. H. Cox, then in his glory, had out- 
grown the small brick church on Cranberry Street. 
His society had just completed a stone edifice on 
Henry Street. Mr. John T Howard, still a leadmg 
member in Plymouth Church, obtained the refusal of 
the old house in which the first service of the church 
was held. Mr. Beecher was pastor of a church m 
Indianapolis. He.was invited to preach at the opemng 
of the church, which he did, morning and evening, to 
audiences which crowded every part of the building. 
The new enterprise, under the name of " Plymouth 




In New York. 87 

Church," was organized on the 12th day of June, 1847. 
My. Beecher was publicly installed on the 11th day of 
November of the same year. In the month of January, 
1849, the house of worship w'as consumed by fire. On 
the same site the present church edifice was erected. 
It has a metropolitan fame, and is known in all quarters 
of the globe. 

PLYJIOUTH CHURCH ON SUNDAY MORNING. 

It is an exhilaratino^ sio-ht to see the asserablino; of 
Plymouth congregation on Sunday morning. The 
church is very large, very plain, and veiy comfortable. 
It will seat over two thousand persons. Its lecture- 
room, parlors, Sunday-school room, pastor's study, and 
committee-rooms, cannot be excelled by any church in 
the country. The interior of the church is painted 
white, with a tinge of pink. This contrasts with the 
red carpets and cushions, and gives an air of comfort 
and elegance to the house. A deep gallery sweeps 
round the entire audience-room, which is capped with 
red velvet. The seats rise in amphitheatre fashion, 
from the front to the wall, giving each a good view of 
the pulpit. The great organ stands in the rear of the 
pulpit. A platform is reared opposite the main 
entrance, on which stands a table made of wood from 
the garden of Gethsemane, open in front. There is 
no cushion or covering to the table, and the pastor, 
in his emphatic moments, raps his knuckles on the . 
hard board, that all may hear. Everything is open 
on and around the pulpit, so that the pastor can be 
seen from his boots to his hair. A single chair stands 
on the platform, indicating that the pastor needs 
no assistance, and wants no associate. A crowd 



gg Sunshine and Shadow 

^hv.vs Uanc^s around tbe church on Sunday mormng. 

S^e p ople wish.to attend service than can be ac 
olnocJed. Strangers co.e ^^y;^ ^;:;^ 

and stretch out into the street. Pohcemen keep them 
ford nd ushers guard the door. Every seat m he 

hou.e i let, with the chairs and stools n. aisles and 

recess. The' ushers .ho seat the oongrega.c. are 
members. Their services are voluntary. Some ot 
them have been in attendance for years. T^iey 
the duty with great consideration tact and effic«.rcy. 
All strangers of note who are -^ New lork w P y u> 
outh Church. Members come from New ^oik, H. 
lem, Hoboken, and from all the reg.on round about 
Brooklyn. There is but one Plymouth Church on the 
continent. As the hour of worship draws near, long 
processions of persons can be seen commg from all 
directions. The cars are crowded the ferry-boat , 
known as " Beecher boats," are loaded down, and all 
unite to swell the crowd in front of the house. 

TEN-MINUTE RULE. 

No persons are allowed to enter the church, except 
pew-holders, till ten minntes before the hour of service. 
The small upper gallery, which is free, is filled at once. 
The crowd double-line the door, waitnig for the mo- 
ment of admission. As soon as the beU begms to toll, 
all seat-holders who are not in their pews lose their 
chance. The public are admitted, and they come in 
with a rush. The house becomes one dense mass ot 
human beings. No aisles can- be seen The ten mner 
doors of the church are crowded. Ladies and gen le- 
men sit on the stairs and fill the vestibule. All the 



In New York. 89 

spaces in the church are filled, and standing-room 
thankfully received. The services are long, seldom 
less than two hours. But the crowd scarcely move till 
the benediction is pronounced. The organ, the largest 
in any church in the land, touched by a master hand, 
with a large, well-trained choir, leads the congregation, 
which rises and joins in the song, and sends ujd a volume 
of melody seldom in power and sweetness equalled this 
side of heaven. A basket of choice flowers stands on 
the pulpit. A member of the congregation has for 
many years furnished this superb floral decoration. In 
the summer he gathers the flowers from his own 
garden. In the winter he leaves a standing order 
with the most celebrated florist of Brooklyn, who 
executes it as regularly as the Sabbath dawns. 

MR. BEECHER IN THE PULPIT. 

In the rear of the platform is a small door, through 
which the pastor usually enters. At the exact time 
the door slides, the chair is pushed suddenly one side, 
and the pastor, with an elastic bound, comes on to the 
platform, hat in hand, which he usually throws on the 
floor. He takes a smell at the vase of flowers, gives a 
sharp, sweeping glance over the vast auditor}'', and 
seats himself in his chair. The consrreo-ation has a 
fresh, wide-awake appearance. There is always an 
excitement attending a crowd. Every portion of the 
service interests and holds the assembly with an irre- 
sistible power. A great portion of the audience are 
young. They crowed the church, fill the choir, compose 
the many Bible classes in the Sunday school, and furnish 
the large corps of teachers. In the pulpit, Mr. Beecher 



90 Sunshine and Shadow 

seems about fifty years of age. He is sliort of stature 
stocky, but compactly built. His countenance is florid 
and youthful. He dresses in good taste,, without dis- 
play. A black frock coat, pants and vest, collar of the 
Byron order, turned over a black cravat, complete his 
costume. His manners are gentle as a woman's, his 
spirit tender as a child's, his smile is winning. In 
the pulpit his manner is reverent and impressive. His 
voice is not smooth, but it is clear, and fills the largest 
house. He is very impressive in prayer. His words 
are fit and beautiful. He puts himself in sympathy 
with his audience, and leads them, as it were, to the 
throne of grace. His reading of the Word of God 
would serve as a model. He rises from his chair, 
touches the Bible as it lies on his desk as if it were a 
sacred thing, reads with solemnity, taste, and clear 
enunciation the passage selected, with a heartmess and 
urtlessness that attracts and holds the attention. In aU 
his public services there is an entire freedom from 
irreverence, vulgarity, or cant. In the heat of his dis- 
course he appears like a man engaged in a great con- 
test. He is on fire. His face glows, his cheeks burn, 
his eyes flash. He stands erect. His antagomst is 
before him. He measures him. He strikes squarely 
and boldly. The contest waxes hotter. The preacher 
and the audience are in sympathy, He thunders out 
his utterances, and they ring round the church, strike 
the audience on the sidewalk, and arrest the passers 
by The sweat stands on his forehead. He stamps 
with his foot. He thumps the hard desk with his 
knuckles. He walks rapidly to the front of the plat- 
form as if he would walk off. He chases his antagonist 



In New York. 91 

from one side of the platform to another. When he 
has floored him, he pauses, wipes the sweat from his 
forehead, lowers his voice, and in his colloquial tones 
commences again. He holds his audience completely 
under his control. A broad smile, like a flasli of sun- 
li-jrht, ^lows on the face. A laui»;'^ like the winds of 
autumn among the dry leaves, shakes the vast auditory. 
Tears fill every eye. The preacher is at times col- 
loquiid, dogmatic, vehement, boisterous, at all times 
impressive. 

HIS SERMONS. 

They are after his own order. lie is his own model. 
No man can tell what the sermon is to be from the 
text. He has his own modes of illustratinoi: truths. 
He finds subjects in texts where few men would think 
of looking for them. He preaches much on the love 
of Christ, the need of regeneration, and of judgment 
to come. lie regards a Christian as a fully-developed 
man, and he preaches to him as a creature that has 
civil, domestic, and social duties, who has a body, intel- 
lect, and soul to be cared for. What are called 
Beecherisms are isolated sayings picked out from their 
connection, which give no more idea of Mr. Beecher's 
preaching than the eye of Venus on a platter would of 
its appearance in its proper place, or the head of John 
the Baptist on a charger as it would have appeared on 
the shoulders of that memorable man. His utterances 
that startle, given in his bold, energetic, and enthusiastic 
manner, enforce some doctrine or fasten some great 
practical truth. 

One of his most impressive methods is the use he 
makes of the Word of God in his sermons. In the 



92 Sunshine and Shadow 

height of an impassioned appeal he will pause, and In 
a low^, tender tone, say, " Let ns hear what the Savior 
says." Taking up a small Testament that lies by his 
side, he will read the passage referred to. On it he 
will make a few crisp, pertinent comments. His 
elocution is peculiar, and he reads with good taste. 
The idea that Jesus is speaking to them pervades the 
assembly. No one doubts but that the preacher 
believes he is reading the words of Jesus. His low, 
earnest tones carry home the Word. He concludes. 
A long, pent-up sigh goes forth, indicating how deep 
the interest of the audience was in the Scripture 
read. 

He has great dramatic power. It Is so clearly 
natural, unstudied, and unavoidable, that whether it 
sends a smile through the audience, or opens the 
fountains of the soul from whence tears flow forth, it 
is equally impressive. He Imitates the manner and 
tone of a drunken man before a judge, a blacksmith 
at his forge, or an artisan clinching rivets inside of a 
steam-boiler. He will imitate a backwoodsman whack- 
ing away at a big tree. He will show how an expert 
fisherman hauls in a hus-e salmon with dexterous skill. 
He has a peculiar shrug of the shoulders. If he speaks 
of hypocrites, he will draw his face down to such a 
length that it is Irresistible. He has wit, humor, and 
illustration, which keep his audience wide awake. His 
figures, fresh and lively, are taken from daily life, from 
his rural home, his journeys, cold nights on a steam- 
boat, or from the marts of trade. He knows human 
nature completely. The sword of the Spirit In his 
hands is the discerner of the thoughts and intents of 



In New York. 93 

the heart. His figures are fresh, vivid, and varied. 
He keeps abreast of affairs in the nation, in social life, 
in tlie church, and in the world. His style of labor 
would ruin most men. He constructs his morning 
sermon on Sunday morning. He goes from his study 
to his pulpit with the performance hot from his brain. 
He sleeps at noon, composes his evening discourse after 
his nap, and, glowing with thought and excitement, he 
preaches his sermon. The sparkle and lightning-like 
power of some parts of his sermon come from this 
practice. He gives this reason for it : " Some men like 
their bread cold, some like it hot. I like mine hot." 

PECULIARITIES OF THE CHURCH. 

Mr. Beecher's tact is displayed in his management 
of the large church over which he is pastor. It has a 
membership of nearly two thousand. It boasts the 
largest congregation, pays the largest salary to min- 
ister, organist, and sexton, has the largest church organ, 
and one of the largest Sunday schools, in tlie land. 
Most of the Plymouth Church are young, or in the prime 
of life. It has all grades of men in opinion and fiith, 
— Orthodox and Latitudinarians, Conservatives and 
Radicals, men of strict views and liberals, men steady 
as a Pennsylvania cart-horse, men unmanageable as 
Job's wild asses' colts. The freedom of speech is al- 
lowed to all. Some men think they can convert the 
world and reform society in a few weeks. The pastor 
encourages them to go ahead. If opposed, such parties, 
like compressed steam, would blow out the pulpit end 
of Plymouth Church. As it is, they soon tire out, and 
settle dow^n into staid and quiet church members. For 



94 Sunshine and Shadow 

twenty years Plymouth Church has been at peace, 
walking in unity and harmony. No church has more 
working power. Its donations to every cause of hu- 
manity, philanthropy, and religion are large. In mis- 
sion work, and every form of Christian labor, its mem- 
bers take the lead. He seldom opposes the introduc- 
tion of any subject about which his people wish to talk. 
He will allow an exciting subject, to which he is 
opposed, to be introduced for debate. He will give 
notice of the discussion from the pulpit. He will sit 
quietly through the whole debate. When the right 
time comes, with a few kind, earnest words, he will 
squelch out the matter, as a man crushes out a coal 
with the heel of his boot. 

THE influence OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH. 

There is but one Plymouth Church, because there is 
but one Henry Ward Beecher. Its influence is felt in 
every part of this country. AYhen the present edifice 
rose from the ashes of the former one, its conveniences, 
parlors, social rooms, pianos, and other appointments, 
were subjects of general censure or general ridicule. 
Scarcely a church of any denomination is now erected 
without them. He inaugurated congregational singing 
led by a choir, and the printing of tunes as well as hymns 
for the use of the people. Its fine Sunday-school room, 
with fountain, flowers, pictures ; with its organ, melo- 
deon, piano, — tasteful, attractive, and beautiful, — was 
the subject of general censure — now generally imitated 
where churches have ability and taste. In the style of 
its conference meetings, its Sabbath-school work, and 
its relief from the dull, tedious routine of the olden 




In New York. 95 

time, in its identity with the reforms and humanities 
of hfe, and in its social power, the Plymouth Church 
affects nearly all the churches in the land. Should the 
pastor die, the church dissolve, and no visiljle organiza- 
tion remain, it would speak, though dead, to all parts 
of the land, in the islands of the sea, on the mountains 
of the Old World, and in all places where spirit and 
success attend the ministry of the Word. 

ME. BEECHER IN THE LECTURE-ROOM. 

Those who have not seen Mr Beecher in his lecture- 
room know little of him, or his power over his people. 
The room is large, and will hold a thousand persons. 
It is as plain as decency will allow. Settees fill the 
room, covered with crimson cushions. A carpet covers 
a part of the floor. The platform stands betw^een two 
doors at one end of the room. It has neither railing, 
desk, nor drapery. A small table holds the Bible and 
hymn-book. Beside it is a cane-seat chair. Promptly 
on the hour Mr. Beecher seats himself in the chair, and 
gives out the number of the hymn. He uses none of 
the formulas so common, such as, " Let us sing to the 
praise of God," or " Let us introduce our worship," or 
" Sing, if you please ; " nor does he read the hymn. lie 
simply says, " 740." The house is entirely full. The 
sound of the people finding the hymn is like the rustling 
of autumn leaves. The singing is not a formality. On 
the left hand of Mr. Beecher is a gi\and piano, played 
by the organist, which leads the congregation. It is 
full, grand, majestic. Mr. Beecher leads. If the con- 
gregation sings faintly, he calls for a full chorus. If 
they drag, he reminds them that though the words are 



96 



Sunshine and Shadow 



sweet rfnglng must co.ne up to time. Some brother 
is called on to pray. Another hymn is sung, another 
prayer offered. Another hymn. Then sittmg in his 
chair Mr Beecher makes an address, sharp, interest- 
in. and tender. He carries his audience mth hun m 
„r°aver All bow the head while he utters the words of 
tenderness, entreaty, and thanksgiving. His people he 
near his heart. Their woes, wants, sorrows, and joys 
are borne upward on his petitions. At the close, the 
loud respiration and the suppressed cough indicate 
how intense the sympathy has been between pastor 
and people as they bow at the mercy-seat. 

The meeting continues only an hour. The enjoy- 
ment runs through the whole service. The hour ,s 
only too short. No one is weary ; no one glad when 
the closing hymn is given out. He does not rise to 
gt an address, but sits in his chair like a professo. 
He has much to do with religious experience^ He often 
.ketches his early struggles - some anecdote of his 
father • some mishap of his childhood ; his college 
tfoubks ; his conflicts with poverty ; how he groped 
in darkness seeking for the Savior ; how he built a 
ouse in Indianapolis, and painted '* Jith his own 
hand. So he fills up his address, which ill istiates 
lome'practical or doctrinal truth. He fills up lecture- 
room talks, as he calls them, with thmgs rich, spicy, 
exhilarating and humorous. 



r 



In New York. 97 



HIS CONVERSION. 

In a season of much religious interest, Mr. Beecher 
gave this account of his conversion. Family influence 
led him into the church. He was a professor before he 
was a Christian. He tried to do his dutj, but he did 
not know his Savior, and had no joy in his service. 
He was at Amherst College when a powerful revival 
of religion broke out. He was deeply moved. He 
passed days in agony, and kneeled by the side of his bed 
for hours in prayer. He was as one alone in a dark 
and lonely castle, wandering from room to room, sick, 
cold, and in terror. He called on the president of the 
college. This was a great cross, as he was known to 
be a member of the church. The president shook his 
head as Mr. Beecher told him his condition, and refused 
to interfere, lest he should grieve the Holy Spirit. Mr. 
Beecher went home no better, but rather worse. He 
attended the village church. He remained among the 
inquirers. The minister, talking with the anxious, 
came within one pew of him, and then went back to 
the pulpit. The college course was completed, and 
Mr. Beecher was not converted. 

At Cincinnati he began the study of theology. His 
father's influence led him to that course. He entered 
the Seminary to please his fither, but did not intend to 
be a minister. He not only was not a Christian, but 
he was sceptical. One of his brothers had swung off 
into scepticism, and should another openly follow, he 
thought it would break his father's heart. So he be- 
came a student in theolotry. Some ladies, belonu^iuf? 
to the first families in Cincinnati, invited him to be- 



98 



Sunshine and Shadow 



come their BiWe-class teacher. How could he teach 
what he did not know, or enforce what he did not 
believe ' He was a member of the church, and a theo- 
locHcal student, and he could not honorably declme. 
AU he need do was to tell the class what the Gospels 
contained. He need not tell them what he thought of 
them. So his work began. He studied and collated 
the Gospels. He put together all the passages, lunts, 
scraps, and facts that bore on the character of Jesus, 
and his relation to lost men. In this study Jesus ap- 
peared to him. He smote the rock, and the waters 
gushed out. He saw the Savior, with all his bve and 
Impassion, and fell at his feet to adore "Never ,1 
I get home," said Mr. Beecher, " wdl I have brighter 
visions of my Redeemer. I saw Jesus in all things - 
in the flowers, in the fruits, in the trees, in the sky, 
and, above all things, in the gospel. Years ago in 
my deep anguish at Amherst, had some one said to 
me ' Young man, behold the Lamb of God,' I should 
have then found the Savior, and have been spared 
years of darkness, anguish and sorrow." This state- 
ment was made by Mr. Beecher while he was deeply 
affected Tears coursed down his cheeks. His emo- 
tions, at times, forbade his utterance ; while the great 
audience heard, with hushed attention, this revelation 
of his religious experience. 

PERSONAL. 

Mr Beecher assumes no control over his church. 
The astounding rental goes into the hands of his tru^ 
tees They pay Mr. Beecher an annual salary, and 
dispose of the rest as they please. In Plymouth Church 



I 



In New York. 99 

lie is a simple member, and nothing more, except in 
the pulpit. He conducts the Friday night meeting, 
because the church have voted to have him do so. 
When a church meeting is held, he never takes the 
chair unless it is voted that he shall do so. Sometimes 
he is elected, sometimes not. The old-fashioned, hard 
theolou'v Mr. Beecher does not like. He often selects 
the ugly features of that system, and pitches into them 
like a pugilist. He liolds them up to scorn and deris- 
ion, and stamps upon them with his feet. As a religious 
teacher, Mr. Beecher regards a man in all his relations. 
He preaches to him as he finds him. He takes a child, 
and runs him through all the phases of life to old age. 
I He preaches to man as a son, a brother, a subordinate ; 
as a workman, a clerk, one bound to college or to one 
of the professions. He believes Christianity takes hold 
of social, moral, and political life. He can turn his 
hand to anything. His reading is extensive and 
varied. He is a capital mechanic. His farm at Peeks- 
kill, his rotation of crops, his rare and choice fruits, 
show that he is as superior a farmer as he is a 
preacher. In art matters he has few superiors. He 
would have been eminent in anything he might have 
chosen to do. No man in the world understands his 
physical system better, or conforms more closely, in 
eating, sleeping, and exercise, to the laws of health. 
He is thoroughly temperate. He is over fifty years of 
age, and is robust and healthy, and has twenty-five 
years of hard work in him 3^et. He lives plainly, is 
simple in his dress and in his habits. Seen in the 
street, one would sooner take him for an express-man 



100 Sunshine and Shadow 

in a hurry for the cars, than the most successful 
preacher in America. 

AS A PASTOR. 

Like Spurgeon, Mr. Beecher believes in preaehing^ 
He does no pastoral work, in the proper sense of tha 
fern He visits the sick, buries the dead, performs 
Xh<.es but he must be sent for. His pansh is so 
ZZn^i scattered, that he could do nothing else :f 
he undertook to visit. 



In New York. 101 



X. 

HARPER BROTHERS. 

RECORD OF FIFTY TEARS. — JAJIES'S BOYHOOD. — ORIGIN OF THE HOUSE OV- 

HARPERS. ESTABLISHMENT ON FRANKLIN SQUARE. EMPLOYEES. 

THE CHARACTER OF THE HOUSE. — THE COUNTING-ROOM. 

RECORD OF FIFTY YEARS. 

James, John, ^Yesley, and Fletcher Harper — who 
compose the house of Harper Brothers — have been in 
successful busmess for fifty years. Their publishing 
house, on Franklin Square, is the largest of the kind in 
the world. Brockhaus, in Leipsic, and the great estab- 
lishments on the continent of Europe, do not combine 
all the departments of labor necessary for the produc- 
tion of a book. In Europe, books are usually sold in 
sheets. Printing is one department, electrotyping 
another, and binding a distinct business. The Harpers 
print, electrotype, and bind under one roof The 
manuscript is taken from the author, the types from the 
Ibuudry, leather from the currier, and paper from the 
mill. They leave the establishment a perfect book, 
printed, illustrated, and bound in the highest style 
of art. 



IQ2 Sunshine and Shadow 

JAMS'S BOYHOOD. 

In 1810 James Harper left his rural home on Long 
Island to become a printer. His parents ,vere devout 
Methodists. His mother was a woman of rare gilts 
The morning James left his home, to begm the great 
battle of life for himself, his mother led the family 
devotions. With a heart full of maternal love she 
commended her child to the Savior. She embraced 
him fervently, and bade him never forget iis home, 
the altar of his God, or that he had " good Mood in 
him" He was the "devil" in the printing-office not 
far from where the massive house of the Harpers now 
stands All the mean and servile work was put upon 
him At that time Franklin Square was a^ genteel 
abode. The old Knickerbockers, who were m trade, 
had their stores in and around that place. Sons ot 
judges, aldermen, and men of money crossed^ the pa h 
of tlie young apprentice. His clothes, made m the dd 
homestead, were coarse in material, and unfashionable 
in cut The young bucks made sport of James. They 
shouted to him across the street, -"Did your boos 
come from Paris ? " " Give us a card to your tailor . 
" Jim what did your mother give a yard for your 
broadcloth ? " Sometimes the rude fellows caine near 
and under the pretence of feeling of the fineness of the 
cloth, would grasp the flesh. James bore this insult and 
taunting with meekness, which was construed into cow- 
ardice He saw that he must take his stand, and end 
this imposition. He had no idea of wealth or position 
but he meant to do right, and so conduct himself tha 
his moUier would not be ashamed of him. He meant 




In New York. 103 

to earn all the success and position that fidelity to duty 
could secure. But he resolved not to be imposed upon. 
One da\', as he was doing some menial work, he was 
set upon by one of his tormentors, who asked him for 
his card. He turned on his assailant, having deliber- 
ately set down a pail that he was carrying, booted 
him severely, and said, " That's my card : take good 
care of it. "When I am out of my time, and set up for 
myself, and you need employment, as you will, come to 
me, bring the card, and I will give you work." Forty- 
one years after, when Mr. Harper's establishment was 
known throughout all the land, after he had borne the 
highest municipal honors of the city, and had become 
one of our wealthiest men, the person who had received 
the card came to Mr. James Harper's establishment, 
asked employment, claiming it on the ground that he 
had kept the card given him forty-one years before. 

ORIGIN OF THE HOUSE OF HARPERS. 

With great fidelity James served out his time. His 
master was pleased with. him. In a patronizing wa}', 
he told him when he was free he never should want 
for employment. James rather surprised his old master 
by informing him that he intended to set up for him- 
self; that he had already engaged to do a job, and that 
all he wanted was a certificate from his master that he 
was worthy to be trusted with a book In a small 
room in Dover Street, James and his brother John 
began their work as printers. Their first job was two 
thousand volumes of Seneca's Morals. This job was 
given to them by Evert Duyckinck, the leading pub- 
lisher of that day. The second book laid the founda- 



104 Sunshine and Shadow 

tion of the permanent success of the house. The 
Harpers had agreed to stereotype an edition of the 
Prayer Book for the Episcopal Society of New York. 
Stereotyping was in a crude state, and the work was 
roughly done. When the Harpers took the contract, 
they intended to have it done at some one of the 
establishments in the city.' They found that it would 
cost them more than they were to receive. They re- 
solved to learn the art, and do the work themselves. 
It was a slow and difficult lahor. But it was accom- 
plished. It was pronounced the best piece of stereo- 
typing ever seen in New York. It put the firm at the 
head of the business. It was found to be industrious, 
honorable, and reliable. In six years it became the 
great printing house of New York. In 1823, Joseph 
Wesley Harper entered the firm. In 1826, Fletcher 
Harper was added. These names constitute the house 
of Harper Brothers to this day. Besides personal at- 
tention to business, the brothers exercised great econ- 
omy in their personal and domestic expenses. John 
commenced house-keeping in the lower story of a small, 
genteel house, paying the annual rent of one hundred 
and eighty dollars. One thousand dollars was what it 
cost the brothers each to live for the first ten years of 
their business life. It is their custom when they start 
a new business enterprise, such as the Weekly or the 
Bazar, to set apart a capital of fifty or one hundred 
thousand dollars, as the case may be, to be expended 
in placing the new enterprise on a paying founda- 
tion. 



In New York. 105 



ESTABLISHMENT ON FRANKLIN SQUARE. 

The house is an immense iron building, painted in 
imitation of white marble. It covers half an acre of 
ground. It is fire-proof, seven stories high, and is one 
of the most complete, airy, and pleasant edifices in the 
city. It has two frontages, one on Franklin Square 
and one on Cliff Street. Its apartments are united by 
iron bridges thrown across the court. The stairways 
are circular, and are outside the building. There are 
no openings in the floor for fire to communicate from 
one story to another. The rooms are elegant, and well 
ventilated. Modern improvements for comfort, health, 
and cleanliness abound. Expensive and curious ma- 
chinery fill the chambers. The folding machines, the 
presses, the marbling department, the mysteries of 
electrotyping, the marvellous inventions by which 
science becomes the handmaid of toil, and wipes the 
sweat curse from the brow of labor, are among the 
curiosities shown. 

EMPLOYEES. 

The movements of the nicely-adjusted machinery 
are scarcely more quiet and elastic than are the move- 
ments of the six hundred persons employed in this 
house. Pen, brain, the pencil of the designer, the chis- 
el of the engraver, the skill of the artist, the neatness 
and taste of women, intelligent mechanism, find here 
employment. The liberal, genial, honorable spirit of 
the proprietors prompts them to pay the best wages, 
and secure the best talent. Those who enter the house 
seldom leave it. Boys have become men, and they 
still come and go as regularly as the sun. The middle- 



106 



Sunshine and Shadow 



aced have become gray-headed. The sons of men who 
have grown old in the service and have died, step m to 
take ieir fathers' place. One old man, who has ived 
in the vaults for half a century, and has charge of the 
plates, and will live nowhere else, who talks constantly 
about the "good Mr. Harpers," as he cal s his old 
masters, is still hale, hearty, and happy as when a boy 
he did the bidding of James and John. 

THE CHARACTER OF THE HOUSE. 

The uniform prosperity and success of the house of 
Harpers for half a century shows conclusively that 
integrity and honesty are worth something m trade 
The" Harpers have kept abreast of the times, and held 
the lead from 1826 to this hour. Their mercantile re- 
pute is without a stain, and their honor untarnished. 
Their imprint on a book fixes the reputation, and often 
guarantees the fortune, of the author. Hardly an 
American book comes out that is not offered first to 
this house. Eminent authors in Europe send for their 
terms The most celebrated writers on the Contment 
be- the Harpers to introduce them to the American 
public. Two thousand works, three thousand volumes, 
twelve hundred of which are original, are the issue of 
one season. Tlie weekly and monthly pictorials are 
marvels of success, of elegant typography, graphic 
illustration. The house has driven out the vile yellow- 
covered books, once so common in genteel and even 
Christian homes, by affording attractive, elegant, and 
cheap stirring works of fiction. The circulation ot 
half a million of the Weekly and the Monthly shows at 
once the demand for light literature, and how readily 



In New York. 107 

the public will welcome the pure when it is offered. 
Two hundred and ten thousand of Harper's Weekly 
have been sold in one week. Thousands of persons 
are dependent on this firm for their daily bread. Hus- 
bands and parents, brothers and sisters, booksellers and 
agents, artists and authors, outside of the establishment, 
in all parts of the land, find employment at their 
hands. At an early day the Harpers opened a genteel 
and he;dthy field of labor for women. Ladies of taste 
and talent, numbered by hundreds, find protection and 
good wages under this honorable roof 

THE COUNTING-ROOJI. 

In the centre of the main floor, railed in by an iron 
fence, is a space fifteen by forty feet, which is the 
sanctum of the brothers. Within the enclosure are 
sofas, desks, and easy-chairs for persons having business 
with the house. Here may be seen, from day to day, 
the original founders of the firm, James, John, and 
Joseph, the youngest of whom is over sixty, but looking 
less than forty. James, the founder of the house, would 
be a marked man anywhere — tall, well-proportioned, 
with dark hair, heavy eyebrows, a pleasant expression, 
a genial smile and a kind word for all. A devout 
Methodist, he is a liberal supporter of all good things. 
The wealth he has so nobly earned flows as constant 
as the river. When New York was so badly governed 
1 that neither property nor life was safe, and the people 
arose in their might to effect a change, Mr. Harper was 
chosen their standard-bearer, and was elected, trium- 
phantly, mayor of the city. John is thick-set and 
stocky, but not as tall as his brother. Joseph is thin, 



108 Sunshine and Shadow 

spare, and looks very little like the elder member of 
the firm. In the counting-house during the day may 
be met the most distinguished authors, writers, and 
artists of the land ; men of letters, foreign and native, 
making it the " Literary 'Change " of New York. The 
whole air is redolent with talent, literature, and taste. 
Surrounding the original members of the firm are the 
sons, on whom already the burden of the establishment 
rests. They inherit the urbanity, probity, and thrift 
that has made the name they bear so famous and so 
honored. It is no common boon to found such a house, 
to find it green and vigorous at the close of a half 
century, to have leisure and wealth for repose or travel, 
and to be surrounded by children able and willing to 
bear down the honor and business of the establishment 
to generations to come. It is a genial spot in which to 
pass a half hour. With such company, genial conver- 
sation is blended with the politeness and the blandness 
of the old school. If the Brothers Cheeryble have a 
house in New York, it is located in Franklin Square. 



In New York. 109 



XI. 

STOCK AND OIL PREACHERS. 

THE NEW YORK PULPIT. — MINISTERIAL SPECULATORS. — A SPECIMEN 

IN POINT. 

THE NEW YORK PULPIT. 

As a whole, the ministry of New York is able and 
greatly respected. A fashionable New York church can 
command almost any talent in the country. Besides 
this, there is almost every variety of talent in the New 
York pulpit — the radical who makes his pulpit a 
political forum, and the well-to-do conservative who 
meddles with neither politics nor religion. The trader, 
the man sharp at bargains, men found on 'change, with 
the stock and oil preachers, abound. Some are in 
political life, others are connected with the daily press. 
Some are in literary pursuits; some write books, others 
review them. An attempt was made some time since 
to keep the Sabbath more loosely, and a New York 
clergyman was found willing to lead the attempt. 
Ministers of New York have been found willing to 
throw their silk gowns over the plaj-ers, and have 
preached sermons to show the connection between 
religion and the stage. Nearly every faith known to 



110 SCHSHINE AND SHADOW 

the Civilized world has a local habitation in New York, 
and a priest to minister at its altar. 

MTNISTEEIAL SPECUIATOKS. 

Among the most excited in the stock market are 
men who profess to be clergymen. One of this c ass 
■realized a snug little fortune of eighty thousand dollars 
in his speculations. He did not want to be known m 
the matter. Daily he laid his funds on his broke . 
desk If any thing was " realized," it was taken quietly 
away. The broker, tired of doing business on the sly, 
advised the customer, if the thing was distasteful to 
him, or he was ashamed openly to be in business he 
had better retire from Wall Street. Men of this class 
often have a nominal charge. They affect to have 
some mission for which they collect money. They 
roam about among our benevolent institutions, visit 
prisons or mission-schools, anywhere they can get a 
chance to talk, to the great disgust of regular mission- 
aries and the horror of superintendents. They can be 
easily known by white cravats, sanctified looks, and the 
peculiar unction of their whine. They can be seen 
dailv upon the curbstone in Wall Street, speculatmg in 
stocks, horses, houses and oil ; indeed, anything that 
turns up. 

BEV. SIDNEY A. COREY, D. D. 

This gentleman may be classed as a representative 
clergyman of New York. He is about fifty years of 
age"^ a man of marked ability and of decided talent. 
He is pastor of the Murray Hill Baptist Church, and 
has had a career a little 9ut of the usual line. He 
was educated for the stage. Being early brought 



In New York. Ill 

under the influence of religion he consecrated his 
gilts to the ministry, and brought his marked talents 
to bear on the cause of religion. He has been con- 
tent to be a pioneer in the religious field and to do 
mission work in this great city. It was through his 
influence that the fine stone edifice on Twelfth St. was 
reared. While in the hi^ht of success, the Fifth 
Avenue fever began to rage. Some of his friends 
were among the most successful business men in New 
York. Having secured eligible lots for elegant resi- 
dences in that fashionable part of the city, ihey pro- 
posed to build a new edifice for Dr. Corey that should 
out^op any in the city. He was induced to leave his 
down-town charge and embark in the new undertak- 
ing. The elegant edifice now known as Christ Church, 
and occupied by an Episcopal Society, was reared for 
the new Society of which Mr. Corey was to be pastor. 
When completed it w^as undoubtedly the mo-t unique 
and brilliant church edifice owned by the Baptists in 
the country. But reverses which are the common 
law of mercantile life in this city, swept with terrific 
power over New York. The stoutest houses shook in 
the crash of '57, and hundreds of men of fortune 
became penniless. The men who were pledged to the 
new enterprise had to abandon their own houses. It 
was impossible to procure money, and with sorrow 
the congregation yielded to the pressure and aban- 
doned their elegant place of worship. 

Not discouraged, Mr. Corey and a few friends com- 
menced their work anew in the humblest way. The 
aristocratic and wealthy, who would crowd a fashion- 
able church, on a fashionable thoroughftire, could not 



Il2 Sunshine and Shadow 

be expected to follow their pastor into halls, little 
chapels, and unattractive rooms, such as could be 
secured to meet the new emergency. With a persis- 
tancy and courage that no reverses could daunt, Mr. 
Corey has finally secured eligible lots in the upper 
part of New York. Worshipping now in a small 
chapel, he will soon erect an edifice to crown the 
years of toil and struggle with triumphant success. 

Dr. Corey possesses marked executive and business 
ability. He visited England at his own expense to 
induce the great preacher Mr. Spurgeon to come to 
America. He would have accomplished his object, 
but the prince of preachers could not leave his own 
work at that time. Blest with means, Dr. Corey is 
liberal in his aid of educational and philanthropic 
causes. Few men have a larger hold on the young 
business element of the city. He is a high-toned, 
genial and manly gentleman, better known, perhaps, 
among the business portion of the city than any cler- 
gyman in New York. He is one of our best read 
ministers, and has a private library that ranks among 
the first in the land. Preaching without notes, with 
a sonorous voice and impassioned utterance, tall and 
manly in form and bearing, he leaves a marked im- 
pression on his audience, and ranks among the best 
pulpit orators of the metropolis. The last year he 
received the collegiate honor of Doctor of Divinitj^ 



In New York. 113 



XII. 

JOHN JACOB ASTOR. 

HIS EAKLT LIFE. EMBARKS FOR AMERICA. HE BEGINS BUSINESS. EARLT 

SUCCESS. ENGAGES IN COMMERCE. SITE OF THE ASTOR HOUSE. — HIS 

STYLE OF BUSINESS. A BRIDAL GIFT. — HIS LIBERALITY. ASTOR LIBRARY. 

THE MORLEY LEASE. HOW HIS WEALTH WAS LEFT. MR. ASTOR AT 

EIGHTY-ONE. HIS RELIGION. — HIS CLOSING HOURS. 

HIS EARLY LIFE. 

While New York has a name, the memory of John 
Jacob Astor will form an important part of our historic 
fame. As the tall cliff among the hillocks, or the 
cathedral among the lowly dwellings, so he towers 
among his compeers. He was born on the 17th of July, 
1763, in the small village of Waldorf, near Heidelberg, 
in the duchy of Baden, Germany. His father was a 
very respectable man, and held the office of bailiff. 
Mr. Astor was a countryman of Martin Luther, and 
possessed many traits that marked the great reformer. 
He was educated by his mother. His school books 
were the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer, 
During his long life, it was his habit, on waking iu 
the morning, to read from those books that he used 
in the home of his boyhood. 

8 



114 ScxsHixE .VXD Sa.voow 

KMBAKK? WK AMERICA. 

He w;»s twenty veai-s old at the close of the war of 
InJopeudeuce. He ixjsolved to seek his fortune m t he 
Kew World. He was a poor, uneducated boy. and he 
truds<-Hl on foot from home to the seaport from which 
he w".s to sail. A small bundle held all Ins worldly 
effects. He had money enough to seciure a common 
steeta^ l>.uss.>se. He expected to land penniless ou 
American soil. Outside of his native village he paused, 
and cast towaixls it one last, long look. Beneath the 
linden ti-ee under which he stood he formed thi-ee 
^solutions; "IwiU be honest, I will be industrious^ I 
will never gamble.- He kept these resolutions to il.c 
dav of his death. He sailed from London in Marc.i. 
1783. His vovage was long and very boisterous. lie 
formed frienddiips on bo;.i-d the vessel that laid the 
foundation for his future wealth. The lather of ex- 
Mavor Tienm.n, and Mr. Paff. of whom Mr. As or 
bonsht a ix,rtion of the gwnnd on which the Astor 
House now stands. wei« passengers As ^^ ^^l-^J"^ ''" 
the Atlantic Ocean, formed the acqu.unt.inee ot ri e 
Moravians, whose influence over him changed his whok 
life, so Mr. Astor made the acquaint^uice f » ™' /" 
tl^steerav^ of his vessel, that introduced hnn to that 
business by which he accumulated millions. 

HE BB.1IXS EUSIXESS. 

\U <=orts of stories atx. eiB,'nlated about tlie e^vrly 

ei^er of Mr. Astor. He is said to have eomnicneed 

;l"i:g in apples and peanut. Had this beeii^ ^ 

would have n^ected no disgrace on hmi or hi. chil- 



In Nkw York. 115 

(Iron. lie brought with liim seven llntcs from his 
brother's mannlactory in London. These he sohl. lie 
invested the proceeds in fnrs. IFe went steadily to 
woriv to U\nn tlie trade lor hinr^eU! lie was frngal, 
industrions. and earlv exhibited n'reat tact in trn(h\ 
He was accustomed to say, later in life, that tiie only 
hard step in makiiii;- his fortune was in the accunuda- 
tion of the first thousand dollars. lie possessed marked 
executive ability. He Avas quick in his perceptions. 
He came rapidly to his conclusions, lie made a trade 
or rejected it at once. In his liuud)lest relations to 
trade he exhibited all the characteristics which marked 
him in maturer life, lb' made distinct contracts. These 
he adhered to with indexible purpose, lie was elastic 
and sprightl}^ in his disposition, cheerful, open-hearted 
and honorable. His broad German face olowed with 
intelligence and kindness. The honor of New York, 
his adopted city, was alwaj^s dear to him. 

EARLY SUCCESS. 

Mr. Astor was fortunate in obtaining a clerkship in the 
house of Robert Bowne, an honest, wealthy Quaker, 
who was ever after the fast friend of Mr. Astor. 
Aster's brother, Harry, was a rich Bowery butcher. 
He furnished funds to his brother to set up for himself 
in the fur trade. Mr. Astor founded the American 
Fur Company, and had several partners, among wdioni 
Peter Smith, the father of Gerrit Smith, was conspicu- 
ous. Mr. Smith retired from the firm with a fortune 
of two millions. Mr. Astor kept on his way, and rolled 
his fortune np to over fifty millions. 



lie ' Sunshine and Shadow 



ENGAGES in COMMERCE. 

Mr Aster became an importer. At one time his 
store was in South Street, near the South Ferry. After- 
wards he took one on the corner of Pine and Pearl 
Streets, which still stands. During the war, of 181.. 
he was largely engaged in the tea trade. He also 
fitted out several blockade runners for Gibraltar. An 
eminent minister of this city at that time was a clerk 
in Mr. Astor's store. He relates the followmg mcident. 
A schooner was purchased, and was to be loaded and 
cleared in twenty-four hours. It was a case that 
required despatch. The whole force of the establish- 
ment was at work, Mr. Astor among them. The load- 
ing began on Saturday morning. At ten o'clock at 
night Mr. Astor said to the company, " Now, boys, sill 
knock off. Come early to-morrow morning, and we'll 
finish up the work." Turning to the clerk, whom he 
knew to be a pious young man, he said, « You need not 
come to-morrow. I am glad we have one Christian 
among us. You go to church, and pray for us poor 
sinners hard at work." He then had vessels plough- 
ino- every sea. His ships, freighted with furs, sailed to 
Fmnce, England, Germany, Russia and China. He 
knew intimately the various markets to which he 
traded He gave directions in the smallest details 
about distributing his cargoes and exchanging com- 
modities in foreign markets, and these instructions had 
to be minutely obeyed. 



j,k 



In New York. • 117 



SITE OF THE ASTOR HOUSE. 

At an early day Mr. Aster began to invest in real 
estate. Just before be died, some one asked him if he 
had not too much real estate. He replied, " Could I 
begin life again, knowing what I now know, and had 
money to invest, I would buy every foot of land on the 
Island of Manhattan." From beating felts on Gold 
Street, Mr. Astor came up to Broadway, on the corner 
of Vesey. A small brick mansion, which he built, was 
filled with furs from the cellar to the attic. His office 
was on the Yesey Street side, where either himself or 
wife were always found to attend to customers. The 
fashionable residences of New York were below Vesey 
Street. His house was considered far up town. On 
the block above Mr. Hone built an elegant mansion, 
of which he was very proud. The Park, opposite, was 
surrounded by a mean wooden fence. Against this, in 
the morning, Mr. Hone would lean, toy with his watch- 
key, wdiich was attached to a leather chain, and admire 
his house. Mr. Hone was one of the rich men of New 
Y^ork, and was not a little proud of his wealth. One 
morning Mr. Astor went over to where Mr. Hone Avas 
standing, and said to him, " Mr. Hone, you are a suc- 
cessful merchant and a good citizen. You have a fine 
wife and some nice children. You have a snug little 
property, and are building a comfortable house. I 
don't see why you are not just as well off as if you 
were rich." It was not an easy matter to purchase the 
square on which the Astor House now stands. But it 
was accomplished. The English style of the Astor 
House has always attracted attention. Mr. Astor 



, on 



118 • Sunshine and Shadow 

visited England, and obtained the plans, in person 
which that celebrated hotel was built. 

HIS STYLE OF BUSINESS. 

The day of his death he was the master of his busi- 
ness He was very exact in keeping his contracts. 
He had a dispute one day with his wood-sawyer. He 
kept an open fire of hickory wood, and laid m a large 
supply The wood-sawyer charged him three and six- 
pence a cord, while the market price was three shillings. 
Mr Astor refused to pay a penny above the regular 
price While he was disputing with the sawyer, some 
ladies came in to solicit a donation for a charitable 
institution. He paused in the debate, heard the plea 
of the ladies, ordered Bruce, his confidential clerk, to 
draw up a check of five hundred dollars, signed it and 
handed it to the ladies, bowed them out, and then 
renewed the dispute with the laborer, by whom he did 
not choose to be cheated out of a single penny. 

MAKES FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS. 

The German Benevolent Society made Mr. Astor an 
honorary member. They sent him regular notices of 
all the meetings, though he never attended any. About 
two years before he died he added a codicil to his will, 
leaving the society twenty thousand dollars. As his 
custom was, he notified the trustees that he had done 
so. All the persons who were mentioned in his will 
were notified of the fact as soon as the thing was done. 
The German Society was embarrassed. They chose a 
committee to wait upon Mr. Astor, to see if he would 
not anticipate his death by giving them the twenty 



In New York. . 119 

tlioii?and dollars. Mr. Aster shook his head when the 
committee made the proposal, and declined to do it. 
" You'll get the money," the old man said. They 
pressed the matter, and finally Mr. Astor said, " Til 
give yon twenty thousand dollars in Pennsylvania five 
per cent, bonds." These bonds were at a discount of 
twenty-five per cent., which would leave the society 
but fifteen thousand doUars. The committee asked 
permission to consult with the society before they 
closed the contract. They were instructed to make 
better terms with Mr. Astor if they could. They 
represented to him the hardship of losing five thou- 
sand dollars, while it could make no difference to 
Mr. Astor. He ended the interview by quietly saying, 
" It is in the will, gentlemen, and I can easily strike it 
out." They closed with the proposal. Bruce was 
called for, the bonds were delivered, and with a face 
radiant with pleasure, leaning on his staff, he tottered 
into the back office, chuckling as he went, to tell 
William that he had " made five thousand dollars that 
morniniz;." 

A BRIDAL GIFT. 

He had a favorite grand-daughter. He made her 
promise that she would not get married without his 
consent. One day the young miss called upon him, 
kissed him, and told him she was "-oino: to be married. 

' Do 

" Is he likely ? " said the old man. '• Does he love you, 
and do you love him?" These questions being an- 
swered in the affirmative, he sent her away, and told 
her to come and see him in one week. In the mean 
time Mr. Astor made diligent inquiries about the 
young fellow. They w^ere all satisfactory. On the 



120 Sunshine and Shadow 

day appointed the yoimg lady appeared, and, blushing 
behind her grandfather's chair, she was in ecstasies as 
she heard him say, " It is all right. You may get 
married. Come and see me the morning you are mar- 
ried. Come alone, and I will make you a present." 
She kept the appointment, and received a check of 
two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. 

HIS LIBERALITY. 

For vagrants, street begging, and miscellaneous calls, 
Mr. Astor had no ear. His gifts, however, were munif- 
icent, and constant. He sent William to Europe to 
perfect himself in travel. He gave him permission to 
spend just as much money as he chose. He was absent 
a year. To a personal friend he expressed surprise that 
William should ha^'^ spent so little. " He spent only 
ten thousand dollars," said the old man. " I thought 
he would certainly spend fifty thousand dollars." 

Attached to his house on Broadway, above Prince, 
was a narrow alley leading to his kitchen. This 
kitchen was as large as that of a hotel. A supply of 
beef and bread was always kept on hand for the poor. 
Families known to be needy, who were cleanly in per- 
son, orderly in their behavior, who came and went 
quietly, were daily supplied with food. He kept a 
regular account of the disbursements in this matter, as 
much as if he were keeping a hotel. 

For any service rendered he paid a liberal compensa- 
tion. To his agent, Mr. Smith, who had the full charge 
of all his real estate, he paid a salary of five thousand 
dollars, and gave him the use of an elegant house on 
Fourteenth Street, well furnished, and contracted to 
pay this sum during Mr. Smith's natural life. 



i 



In New York. 121 



ASTOR LIBRARY. 



His munificent gift of three hundred and fifty thou- 
sand dollars to found a Free Library for the City of New 
York is well known. The founding of that library was 
one of those incidental things that occasionally turn up. 
A member of the bar called on Mr. Astor, to see if he 
would subscribe towards a Free City Library. A plan to 
establish such an institution had already been mapped 
out. He took time to consider the proposal, and an- 
nounced his determination to found the library himself. 
He chose the site to benefit a friend, whose j)roperty 
would be enhanced in value by that location. He 
purchased a large amount of real estate in the vicinity 
of the library, on part of which he built an elegant 
residence for his son William, and left the remainder 
to enlarge the library, which has been done. 

THE MORLEY LEASE. 

In the closing part of the last century, Trinity Church 
' -ased to one. Mr. Morley two hundred and forty lots 
of land, in the location now known as the vicinity of 
Spring Street and Varick. Mr. Morley, failing to keep 
the conditions of the lease, it reverted to Trinity. 
Aaron Burr was then a member of the lescislature. He 
was appointed chairman of a committee whose business 
it was to examine into the affairs of Trinity Church. 
That corporation can legally receive an income from 
its property of twelve thousand dollars. Holding a 
property valued by no one at less than Miy millions, 
and exceeding probably a hundred millions of dollars, 
it is difficult to conceive how the vestry can keep their 



122 Sunshine and Shadow 

income clown to the legal mark. No investigation was 
made by Mr. Burr's committee, but Burr came into 
possession of the Morley lease. On it he obtained 
thirty-eight thousand dollars from the Manhattan 
Bank. The murder of Hamilton so incensed the peo- 
ple, that Burr had to flee from the country. He sold 
his lease to Mr. Astor, subject to the Manhattan Bank 
mortgage. He received from Mr. Astor about thirty- 
two thousand dollars. Mr. Astor immediately re-leased 
the property in lots. The Morley lease was to run 
until 1867. Persons wbo took the Astor leases sup- 
posed that they took them for the full term of the 
Trinity lease. Mr. Astor was too far-sighted and too 
shrewd for that. Every lease he gave expired in 1864, 
leaving him the reversion for three years, putting him 
in possession of all the buildings and improvements 
made on the lots, and giving him the right of renewal. 
When the fact was discovered, the lessees tried to buy 
from Mr. Astor the three years' reversion. He was, 
offered as high as a thousand dollars a lot. He refused 
all offers except in one case, which I shall notice in 
another place. Returning from his exile. Burr at- 
tempted to regain possession of the property that he 
had sold to Mr. Astor. The attempt was futile. The 
legal instruments that secured the property were too 
carefully drawn, and Burr abandoned the contest, and 
died in poverty. This property was a great source of 
wealth to Mr. Astor. 



In New Youk. 123 



now niS WEALTH WAS LEFT. 

The amount of Mr. Astor's wealth has never been 
known outside of his family. Much of it was never 
included in his will. He dreaded a lawsuit growing 
out of the settlement of his estate among his heirs, and 
he prevented it by taking the matter into his own 
hands. The property left to his children and relatives 
he deeded to them outrio-ht before his death, making; 
the consideration in each case one dollar. For this 
sum he sold the Astor House to William, and other 
property equally valuable he sold for the same sum. 
There could be no contest when the property was 
bought outright. By the sales, much of the most 
valuable part of his property was not named in his 
will at all. He owned valuable real estate in other 
lands, the titles to which were recorded abroad. He 
made a valuable donation to his native village, which 
he held in fond remembrance till he died. His prop- 
erty has been estimated at various sums, by persons 
equally capable to judge. None place it lower than 
fifty millions of dollars, some carry it up as high as one 
hundred and fifty millions. During the last few years 
of his life he added, from the accumulations of his prop- 
erty, five hundred thousand dollars every six months 
in codicils to his will. 

MR. ASTOR AT EIGHTY-ONE. 

To the close of life he was a man of business, care- 
ful and jealous of his mercantile honor. On Prmce 
Street, just out of Broadway, he built a one story fire- 
proof brick building, where he transacted his immense 



j2i Sdnshine and Shadow 

business A Mr. Pell, a coach-builder, had his establish- 
" n the corner of Wall Street and Broad He was 
r great friend of Mr. Astor. When Mr. Pell made a 
falionable coach, Mr. Astor genera ly took a nde mi 
to try the springs. This was in the humble days of 
Mr /stor's mercantile career. As Mr. Astor mcreased 
in wealth their paths diverged, and '^fter a whde hey 
saw nothing of each other. The son of M- Pe 1 ooL 
one of the Astor leases, and when he found that >t ex- 
pired in '64, he went down to the office to see ,f he coM 
not purchase Mr. A,,tor's three years' interest m the 
lease WilUam gave him a gruff and decided refusal. 
" We don't want to sell," was his laconic answer. As 
the young man was going ont, some one stepped up to 
him, and quietly whispered, "See the old man^ Come 
to-morrow at precisely eleven, and you will find him 
in " The young man said nothing, but went away, and 
returned the next day a little before the hour. It was 
very cold, and he took a seat by the fire in the outer 
office. Promptly on the time Mr. Astor came m. He 
walked very slowly, doubled up, leaning on the head ol 
his cane in a stooping posture, taking short steps, so 
that he rather scuffed along than walked. He sat down 
and warmed himself, and then turning to young Pell, lie 
said, in a pleasant tone, " Young man, what can I do lor 
you'" The request was made. He immediately and 
decidedly replied, "We don't wish to sell those inver- 
sions, young man. But what might your nanie be . 
The young man replied, " It is Pell." " Pell - Pell - 
said Mr. Astor, " I used to know a man by that name 
once; he was a dear friend of mine, ^ut I Jiaven t seen 
him for a great many years." "Yes," said Mr. Pell, "that 



In New York. 125 

man was my father." " Your father ? Why, he used to 
give me rides in his coaches. How I should Hke to see 
him ! " For a moment Mr. Astor was young again. 
"You shall have the lease, young man. Go home, 
have the papers drawn, come here at eleven o'clock 
precisely, on Thursday, and I'll sign them. But don't 
put in any consideration." The young man was prompt, 
so was Mr. Astor. "Have you got the papers?" said 
the merchant. " Did you put in the consideration ? 
Well, let it be one hundred dollars. Have you got the 
money about you ? Well, no matter, Bruce will keep 
the lease till you come and pay. I've given you two 
thousand dollars, youug man. Don't you buy any 
more, for I shan't do it again. You tell your father 
that I remember him, and that I have given you two 
thousand dollars." 

fflS RELIGION. 

In religious belief Mr. Astor was a Lutheran. He 
was nn elder in the church located on Nassau Street, 
near John. Here he worshipped till the house was 
sold and pulled down. He seldom attended church 
after that, stating that he was sold out of house and 
home. Rev. Mr. Labough was his pastor. Mr. Astor 
was afflicted with a complaint that made it difficult for 
him to sit long at a time. To a clergyman he said, 
" Men think me a heathen. I cannot sit in church. I 
have a painful disorder that prevents me." The first 
Mrs. Astor, the mother of his children, was a member 
in full communion of the Grove Street Baptist Church. 
She was a woman of great business tact, high principles, 
and strong common sense. Her house was always open 
to ministers of reliirion. 



J26 Sunshine and Shadow 

HIS CLOSING HOURS. 

Mr Astor lived in a style becoming his wealth and 
position. He purchased the block on Broadway, op- 
posite the site now occupied by the Metropolitan Hotel. 
His house was large, artd furnished in princely style 
His apartments were adorned by costly works of art 
and the richest plate was displayed on his table. He 
had servants and attendants, some of whom came from 
foreign nations. His dinners were pnncely He dressed 
in good taste, was fluent in speech, very intelhgen , met 
all comers with a genial smile, and was P™"P ^'^ 
decided in all he did. It was a pleasure to do busine 
^v-ith him. The closing weeks of his life were passed a 
his country-seat at the foot of Eighty-eighth Street on 
the East Eiver. Under the old trees on his lawn, and 
in his splendid mansion, he dispensed an elegant hosp- 
tality to his friends. He had traced, with great interest, 
the career of the young clerk whom he would no 
allow to work for him on the Sunday many year 
before He knew well that the hour of dissolution was 

' I • „ Ha <iPnt for his foi-mer clerk, now an 
approaching. He sent lor iu» 

e ilinent minister of religion in the city. The party 
^Uo had charge of the door did not know tha t e 
minister had been sent for by the dymg meicha^t 
Thinking the minister wanted money, he closed he 
door upon him, and would not a low hnn to en e- 
The dying wish of Mr. Astor was not gratified, and what 
he wifhed t« breathe into the ear of the man of God 
tas buried with him in his coffin. In appearance v 
r Air was of medium height, quite stout, wih 
full German face, radiant with intelligence and kindness. . 



In New York. 127 

In social life he was modest and unassumin2:, but in 
trade an autocrat in bearing. He died in the city of 
New York on the 25th day of March, 1848. A marble 
bust in the Astor Library preserves his benign features. 
A small engraving, quite imperfect, is the only repre- 
sentation of the great merchant that now exists. 



128 Sunshine and Shadow 



XIII. 

BLACK-MAILING AS AN ART. 

METHODS OF KAISI^G MOKET. - A WIDOWEK BI.ACK-MAII.EP. - A MINISTEK 
PALLS AMONG THIEVES. - BLACK-MAILKKS AT A WEDDING. - A BKIDE 
CALLED ON. - ANOTHER MODE. - BLACK-MAILEH EOILED. - HOTEL 
KEGISTERS AND BLACK-MAIL. 

METHODS OF RAISING MONEY. 

New York is full of adroit rogues. Men and women 
abound here who live by their wits. Hiding themselves 
in the multitude of our people, watching their chances 
and their victims, they are seldom detected. Black- 
mailing is reduced to a system. It is carried on by 
street-walkers, stragglers on the pavement, loungers 
about hotels, keepers of dance-cellars, panel-thieves, and 
criminals of all grades. In cases of black-mailing, where 
relief is at once sought, the detective force are often 
able to restore the money. Usually the victim crimi- 
nates himself so far that he is unwilling to appear befoi^ 
the courts ; so that if the money is restored, which is 
seldom the case, the rogue escapes. Men come to New 
York to see " the elephant." They are not fond of ex- 
hibiting their wounds if they are struck by his trunk. 
Rural gentlemen, who, from the steps of their hotel, 
follow a bland stranger who offers to show them the 



In New York. 129 

sights of tlio city, are not willing to tell how they lost 
their watches or purses. They had rather lose their 
property than have their names get into the paper. 
The black-mailers understand this ; and when they rob 
a man, they so commit the victim, that he can make no 
complaint to the authorities without dishonoring him- 
self. 

A WIDOWER BLACK-MAILED. 

A man about fifty-five years old came from the rural 
districts to spend a little time in the city. He was 
wealthy, respectable, and the father of two children. 
He selected his quarters up town. Among the boarders 
was an attractive California widow. The widow and 
widower soon became quite intimate. Both seemed 
captivated. By mutual consent a suite of rooms was 
taken, handsomely furnished, and occupied by the 
parties. A few days after the removal, the gentleman 
was greeted with an unpleasant surprise on entering 
his room. A stranger sat in his chair, who announced 
himself as the husband of the woman, and demanded 
heavy damages for dishonor done to his name. The 
old man w^as frightened nearly out of his wits. Had he 
gone to the police force, and put himself in their hands, 
all would have been well. But he did as most men 
do under such circumstances — he offered a large sum 
of money to hush the matter up, keep it out of the 
papers, and be allowed to depart. He paid the money, 
settled the bills, left the elegant furniture, packed his 
trunks, and departed. 

He was not lost svAit of, however, for a moment. 
The parties knew their man, and his means ; knew his 
standing, and the value he put on his good name. He 
1 9 



130 Sunshine and Shadow 

was docged constantly ; he was drawn upon for large 
sums of money; he was threatened with exposure, till, 
driven to desperation and almost beggary, he did 
.vhat he should have done at first- went to the pohce 
headquarters and made a clean breast of >t. The cine 
of the detectives took the case into his own hands. O. 
a new demand for money being made, the chief opened 
a negotiation, through a friend, to see if a settlement 
could not be made, so that the victim, by paying a 
certain sum, might be free from further annoyance. 
The chief worked up the husband. He turned up too 
conveniently not to be a rogue. He was tracked to 
Boston, where he had a wife and children living. The 
Boston marriage was established. The black-mailers 
were met at the appointed hour. The sum demanded 
was agreed upon, and the chief was ready to pay the 
money as soon as the parties signed a receipt, ihe 
adroit rogues declined to put pen to paper, and the 
detective declined to pay the money which he held in 
his hand Blnsterina and threatening seemed to have 
no effect on the resolute friend. The handle of a pistol 
conveniently peeping out from the detective's bosom 
and the cool manner of the negotiator, indicating that 
he knew how to use it, admonished the black-mailers 
that an attempt to get the money by force would not 
succeed. The receipt was signed. The chief coolly put 
it into his pocket, with the money which he hela m Ins 
hand The rogues knew at once he was a detective. 
The principal one claimed the woman as his wife, and 
said he had a lawful right to settle the case as he 
pleased " If that woman is your wife," said the de- 
tective, " then I'll trj you for bigamy, and send you to 



f 



■ I 

i 



In New Yokk. jgi 

Sing Sing" Amid mnch blustering and many threats 
he was taken to the To„,bs. He was fonnd te be a„ 
old offender. Graver crimes rose up against Imn. He 
was t„ed, and sent to Sing Sing. The" victim was re 
heved from further extortion. His money, gone could 
not be regained. He returned to hi.s rura lorn; sal 
fied with his New York experience. 

A MINISTER FAIiS AMONG THIEVES. 

chm-ch^W T''' ';'""' ^°"'-'^«''* Street, stood a 
cnnch hat at one time was one of the most fashiona- 
hie m tlie city. The congregation was wealthy and 
large, the mmister eloquent and popular. The beUes 
of the city, with the young and the faihionable, crow ed 
h chui.h when tlie pastor filled the pulpit In he 

h d ?rr-''"pt''^''''^"^p^^' -"'^ -* ' 

P d to LZ ^"r'7^'" ™^ '^'"^^ ^°"'^ ^'-^-^ been 

Ce h o . ! r™''"' '''' "'"■^^^'- ''-appeared. 

le f flZ ^"'Z^yf-'^^ *e vestry received a 

! / T '■'"''"'' ''''''"'' °ff Sandy Hook The 

„ -, , -, -c^uiope. I he parish were RurDrispd 

and alarmed. The whnl^ ^fr.; '•^uipusca 

Here xvo. o ".^ ''^'''^ ""^^'^ was a painful mystery. 
Here was a minister, settled oyer a flonrishi;. and 
1 beral charge, with a fine church and parsoi ao^ . 
church crowded with flm ^7 -f ^^7 • ' l'''''^^"'^Se, a 
eounl in n '""'^^^^^'^ elite of the citj^, with a salary 

Zi 7 "'"^^' ^'' ""'^^^^ -'-^ke, with the be;t 

had suddenly resigned, and priyately left the cou.tr^, 
to go no one knew where. 

The storjis a romance. The explanation came after 



132 Sunshine and Shadow 

the minister had completed his European tom\ At 
midnight the door-bell of his parsonage was violently 
runor. Goino; to the window, the minister saw a man 
standing on his door-stone, and he demanded his busi- 
ness. He came with a message, he said, from a dying 
woman. Hastily dressing himself, the good man came 
to the door and received the message. Just around the 
block was a poor woman, and she was dying. Her only 
treasure was a babe. She could not die in peace unless 
her babe was baptized. If his reverence would come 
to her dj^ing pillow, and administer that sacrament, the 
blessing of a poor dying woman would be his reward. 
It was much to ask, and at midnight too, but his great 
Master, who loved the poor, would not have denied 
such a request as this. 

His humane and religious sympathies were aroused, 
and the minister followed the messenscer. Common 
prudence would have said, " Take a policeman with 
you. Call up a friend, and get him to bear part in the 
ceremony." But, dreaming of no peril, he went on his 
way to do, as he thought, his Master's will. He was 
soon in a dissolute region, in a street notorious for its 
"uncleanness. The messenger knocked at a heavy gate, 
that closed up a narrow, dark alley. It opened im- 
mediately, and slammed behind the parties like a 
prison door. Through a long, narrow, and unwhole- 
some entry, that seemed to be an alley-way covered, 
the parties took their way. They passed up a narrow 
staircas6, broken and rickety. Lewd women were 
passed on the stairs. Dark-featured and villanous-look- 
ing men seemed to crowd the place. With his sacred 
vestments on his arm, and his book of service in his 



In New York. 133 

hand, the minister was ushered into a dark and un- 
■\vholesome-looking room. The door was closed behind 
him, and locked. A dim candle on the table revealed 
the outline of a dozen persons, male and female, of the 
most abandoned and desperate class. His inquiry for 
the sick woman, and the child to be baptized, was 
greeted by shouts of laughter. He knew he was a 
victim. He demanded the reason for this outrage. 
He was informed that his friends who had invited him 
there wanted money. His standing and character were 
well known. He was in one of the most notorious 
houses in New York ; his midnight visit to that place 
was well known, and could easily be proved. If he paid 
one thousand dollars, all would be well. If not, his ruin 
Avas certain. Instead of defying the villains, calling on 
the police, or confiding in his congregation, he thought 
he could hush the matter up. He might have known 
that it would all come out, and that every dollar he 
paid would be used as evidence against him, or as 
means to extort more. But he was thoroughly fright- 
ened ; would not have the thing known for the world ; 
his hand was in the lion's mouth, and he must draw it 
out as easily as he could ; so he gave his obligation to 
pay the money promptly at noon the next day, which 
he did. Of course new demands were made from time 
to time. He was dogged in the streets. Suspicious- 
looking men stopped to speak with him on the corners. 
Notorious men rang his door-bell. Mj'sterious notes, 
from ignorant, low-bred, and vicious persons, — as the 
spelling and language showed, — came to his hands, 
and into the hands of his family. The poor man was 
nearly distracted. He paid away his own money, and 



134 Sunshine and Shadow 

borrowed till his reputation suffered. The threat of 
exposure hung over him like an ominous sword held by 
a hair. In a moment of desperation he decided to 
leave the country, which he did, to the astonishment 
and regret of his friends. 

On his return from Europe, the rector settled in 
Massachusetts, over a small rural parish. He was soon 
tracked to his country home. Black-mailing was re- 
newed. His old terror came upon him. Again he ac- 
ceded to the extortion. The police of New York at 
length came to his relief In searching for other game, 
they came ujDon proof that this minister was in the 
hands of black-mailers. Letters were found containins; 
information of his whereabouts, how to terrify him, 
what sums to demand, and at what time his salary was 
due. He was relieved from his pursuers. The large 
sums he had paid were not refunded. His spirits were 
broken, and he has never recovered his position. I saw 
him not long since in Canada. He holds a subordinate 
position, and is preaching to a small parish. He will 
die a victim of black-mailing. 

BLACK-MAILERS AT A WEDDING. 

A fashionable wedding is a harvest season for black- 
mailers, especially if the bridegroom has been known 
as a fast young man. No bank keeps a better account 
of the whereabouts and standing of its depositors, than 
do black-mailers of the whereabouts, standing, and 
movements of their victims. A wedding among New 
York high life is talked about. Invitations are greedily 
seized. The elite are all (\g:o<^. On the mornino; of 
the day previous to the wedding, a lady comes to the 



In New York. 135 

store, and asks for the young man. Her business is 
announced as important. She must see the young gen- 
tleman. The " must " is emphatic. At such a time, 
when all are so sensitive, and when, as is often the 
case, a fortune liangs on the bridal wreath, it is im- 
portant to have no scenes. A thrill through the frame 
of the young gentleman called for, the hurrying back 
of his blood from the face to the heart, tells that his 
time has come. He goes to the interview as the ox 
goes to the slaughter. Be the claim real or bogus, 
hush-money is generally paid. 

A BRIDE CALLED ON. 

A call is not mifrequently made at the home of the 
3'oung lady to be married. It is a woman that calls, in 
a shabbj^-genteel array, to excite sympathy. The call 
is made a week or ten days before the wedding. Every 
step is consummately taken, and tells in the right di- 
rectioiL The young lady is called for by the woman, 
who seems to possess a wounded spirit. Her appear- 
ance, the tone of her voice, the expression of her fice, 
bespeak one who has been greatly w^ronged, or who 
has some great sorrow at heart. The acting is con- 
summate. Of course the young lady is not at home to 
strangers. She then asks if the young man is in ; if 
it is true that he is going to be married ; if any one 
can tell her where he can be found — questions intended 
to create anxious inquiry at the breakfost table : " A\ ho 
can that woman be ? What can she want of Cliarlie ? 
Why did she ask so particularly about his being mar- 
ried?" The frightened maiden runs to her lover, and 
says, " 0, Charlie, there was a woman here this morn- 



136 Sunshine and Shadow 

ing for 3^011 ! She seemed so poor and sad ! She 
wanted to know M'here you could be found. She 
wanted to know if you were to be married soon. Who 
is she ? What can she want of you ? " A nice prepa- 
ration this for the visit of the black-mailer on Charlie 
at the store. 

A bolder step is not unfrequently taken. As the 
bridal company are enjoying themselves in an up-town 
first-class residence, an emphatic ring announces an 
impatient comer. The bridegroom is asked for, and 
the footman bade to say that a lady wants to see him. 
The imperious air of the woman plainly tells the foot- 
man, " If he refuses to see me there'll be trouble." 
The footman, well acquainted with high life in New 
York, knows well. what the visit of the woman means. 
He has the honor of the family in his charge. He 
whispers the request of the woman to the startled 
brideo-room. But what can be done ? The woman is 
notorious, and well known. She understands her busi- 
ness, and is unscrupulous. Threats and entreaty will 
be alike unavailing. Ten men could not put her off 
of that step-stone. She would cling to that iron railing 
with the strength of a maniac. She would rouse the 
whole neighborhood by her screeches, accusations, and 
blasphemies. The party would break up in excitement. 
The scandal would run through all New York ; the 
papers would be full of it ; the police might take her 
away, but she would rend the air with her tears and 
strong crying. All these considerations are taken into 
the account b}'' the black-mailers. A private settle- 
ment is usually made, and the unseasonable visitor 
departs. 



In New York. 137 



ANOTHER MODE. 

The announcement in the papers of marriage in high 
hfe, at the residence of the bride's father, does more 
than give information to the curious. It is a bu<i;le-call 
to black-mailers. A young husband, just admitted a 
partner with the father-in-law, whose repute is witliout 
a stain, whose success in life depends upon an unblem- 
ished character, is overwhelmed with the threat that 
unless a sum of monej- is paid at a given time, an in- 
famous charge shall be made against him. An imman- 
\y fear, a cowardly dread of being accused of a crime 
never committed, a wish to shield from sorrow the 
young being he has just led to the altar, often lead a 
young man to yield to the demands of black-mailers if 
they will take themselves off. They depart for a time, 
only to return to renew the demand, making the one 
payment a reason for asking more. 

BLACK-MAILER FOILED. 

I know a young man of marked business ability. 
He was superintendent of a Sunday school and a young 
partner in an important house. His marriage gave him 
a fine social position. About three months after hi3 
return from his wedding trip, a woman called upon 
him at his store. She seemed to be quite well ac- 
quainted with him, and told her errand in a busi- 
ness-like style. She wanted five hundred dollars, and 
must have it. He could give it to her. If he did, 
all would be well. If he did not, she would make 
trouble in his store, and trouble in his fiimily. People 
would believe her, suspicion would attach to him^ and 



138 Sunshine and Shadow 

he could never shake it off. She gave him a hmited 
time to make up his mind ; placed her card in his hand, 
and departed. The young man had sense and pluck. 
He went to a detective, and placed the matter in his 
hands. The detective force is an institution in New 
York. Its members are shrewd, cool, talented and ef- 
ficient. The}^ are everywhere, and in all disguises. They 
represent all professions. They are unknown to rogues, 
and are therefore successful in their efforts to detect 
criminals and to relieve their victims. Assuming the 
role of a friend, the detective called upon the w^oman. 
She was young, intelligent, well-dressed, seemiugly 
modest. She professed to be adverse to a dissolute life, 
end charged that she had stepped aside under the 
solemn promise of marriage. She gave times and 
places when she met the young man, and her candor 
and modesty would have deceived any one but a 
detective. She had rooms in a reputable house, and 
gave the name of her employer. With this statement 
the consjDiracj^ was revealed. One of the times men- 
tioned, the young man was in Europe during the whole 
year on business for the house. The second time 
specified, he was absent from the city the whole month 
on his wedding tour, with the family of his senior 
partner. The room where the interview was held was 
borrowed for the occasion of a casual acquaintance, 
who knew nothing of the disreputable character of the 
woman. The plot was blown into the air. The wo- 
man confessed her conspiracy, gave the names of her 
associates, and was marched off to the Tombs. 



In New York. 139 



HOTEL REGISTERS AND BLACK-MAIL. 

Some of the newspapers print the arrivals at the 
principal hotels daily. These arrivals are used for 
black-mailing purposes. Letters are written to stran- 
gers in the city, and placed in their hotel box. These 
letters pretend to be on business, or to revive old 
acquaintance, or the writers profess to know the family. 
A friend of mine, a stranger in the city, found in his 
box at the hotel a letter, of which this is a copy : — 

'' Sir : Seeing your arrival in the paper to-day, and 
thinking, perhaps, you w^ere a stranger in the city, and 
might want genial company, I have ventured to send 
you my card. 

" Yours, respectfully, 

U " 



Exposures, warnings, fines, imprisonments, do little 
towards breaking up black-mailing. Victims from the 
country are too numerous, the revv^ard is too dazzling, 
the chances of escape too certain, to turn the adroit and 
bold rogues from a trade that yields so rich a revenue. 



140 Sunshine and Shadow 



XIV. 
SUNDAY IN NEW YORK. 

SABBATH MORNING. CHURCH-GOERS. — PLEASURE-GOERS. RELIGIOUS PE- 
CULIARITIES. FOREIGNERS AND SUNDAY. 

SABBATH MORNING. 

The quiet of a Sabbath morning in the lower part of 
the city is in marked contrast to the confusion and hub- 
bub of the week. Crossing: the street is a dano-erous 
effort to hfe and limb near the South Ferry or at 
Bowling Green during any week day. On Sundays it 
is as quiet as a cathedral. Broadway, on which Old 
Trinity stands sentinel at one end, and aristocratic 
Grace at the other, is swept clean arid is deserted. An 
occasional coach, bringing to the hotels a Sabbath 
traveller, or a solitary express wagon loaded down with 
baggage, is all that breaks the solitude. The broad, 
clean pavement of Broadway glistens with the morning 
sun, and is as silent as the wilderness. The revellers, 
gamblers, the sons and daughters of pleasure, who ply 
their trade into the small hours of the morning, sleep 
late ; and the portions of the city occupied by them are 
as silent as the tomb. The sanitary blessings of tlie 
Sabbath to a great city are seen in all the lower part 
of New York. Laboring classes cease from toil, loiter 
about, well shaved and with clean shirts, and smoking 



In New York. 141 

their pipes. Cliiklren from the lowest dens, the foulest 
cellars, the darkest alleys, come on to the sidewalk with 
an attempt at cleanliness, with their best robes, or an 
effort to mend their dilapidated appearance by a little 
bit of ribbon or a rude ornament. Newsboys, with 
their faces washed, their hair combed with their fin- 
gers, offer their papers in subdued tones. In a quiet 
voice the bootblacks ask, " Black your boots ? " and 
exhibit their own shoes polished out of respect to the 
day. The utmost quiet prevails along the docks. 
Piers and wharves are swept clean, and the silence of 
a pestilence joervades these noisy marts of trade. The 
sailors do their morning work quietly in a holiday rig. 
On the North and East Rivers are moored thousands 
of vessels, every one of which carries its flag at its 
mast-head. Bethel churches and floating chapels are 
open to seamen. The dram-shops make a compromise 
Avitli the day by sanding floors, putting their employees 
in clean shirts, and closing up one half of their 
shutters. 

CHURCH-GOERS. 

The churches are generally well attended in the 
morning. As the bells call to prayer. New York comes 
to the pavement, elegantly dressed, as for a soiree or a 
matinee. The streets present an attractive and gay 
appearance. The cars are crowded with people on 
their way to their religious homes, without regard to 
distance or locality. Wealthy church-goers come out 
with their dashing teams. Their splendid outfits appear 
to great advantage on a beautiful Sabbath morning. 
Churches the most crowded in the morning have a 
poor attendance in the afternoon. But for the name 



142 Sunshine and Shadow 

of it, most of them might as well be closed the rest of 
the clay. New York boasts about a half dozen sensa- 
tion preachers, who have a hold on the masses, and can 
draw a second audience. But for " gospel preaching," 
as it is called, one sermon a day is as much as our peo- 
ple care to hear, and more than they inwardly digest. 
CUistering together in a fashionable locality, within 
sight and sound of each other, are more costly churches 
than can be found on any spot in the world. Most of 
these churches have come from down town. Selling 
their property in lower New York at a great price, 
they all want a fashionable up-town location. Leaving 
other parts neglected, these churches crowd on to one 
another. Two or three of them are on one block. The 
singing and preaching in one church is heard in an- 
other. Costly and elegant, most of them are thinly 
attended. Looking on their rich adornments, and 
inquiring the price of pews, one is at a loss to conceive 
where people of moderate means go to church in 
this city. 

PLEASURE-GOERS. 

The sermon over, the dinner digested, then comes 
pleasure. The morning quiet of lower New York gives 
jDlace to revelry. Fanerals, attended by a military or 
civic procession and bands of music, are kept till Sun- 
day afternoons, if the corpse has to be packed in ice. 
Central Park is crowded. Fashionable peojDle turn out 
in immense numbers. Everything that can go on four 
legs is engaged of liverymen for Sunday in advance. 
An afternoon's drive costs from ten to fifty dollars. 
The same cars that convey people to morning worship 
convey those who do not own teams to their afternoon 



In New York. 143 

pleasures. Theatres of the lower order are opened. 
Public gardens, concert saloons, and lager-beer enclo- 
sures are crowded. Dancing, bowling, drinking, carous- 
ing, gambling, occupy the crowd. 

The removal of the down-town churches leaves an 
immense population to spiritual neglect and indiffer- 
ence. The strongholds of piety are levelled, and on 
their foundations Mammon holds her high carnival. 
Where once the aristocratic lived are reeking tene- 
ment-houses, and the day is given up to revehy and 
dissipation. 

RELIGIOUS PECULIARITIES. 

If a minister has a rich and fashionable con screoration, 
success is certain, though his talents are feeble and his 
gifts small. He may be an able and popular pulpit 
orator, and he will generally fail if he depends upon the 
popular ear. Over one of our congregations, the most 
fashionable in the city, where it is difficult to get a seat 
at any price, a minister has been settled for years, on a 
high salary, who could not get a call to a common 
country congregation. His intellect is not above the 
average, his feeble voice does not half fdl the house, 
his utterance is choked and muddy, he has a jerky 
delivery, and his manners are forbidding and unat- 
tractive. On the other hand, men come to New York 
who bring with them immense local popularity. Having 
succeeded elsewhere, they expect to carry New York 
by storm. They are brought here to rescue waning 
congregations, to fill an empty house, to sell costly 
pews. The reputation they bring avails them nothing. 
A man must make his own mark in tlie city. Men 
who have been eminently successful in other places 



144 Sunshine and Shadow 

do not succeed at all here. Men of talent, genius, 
eloquence, are preaching in halls, preaching in little 
chapels, preaching to small and humble congregations, 
preaching on starving salaries, who would make their 
mark elsewhere. But New York is very fascinating, 
and men hold on. 

Not long since one of our religious societies held its 
anniversary. It secured a popular New England minis- 
ter to preach, one who fills any house in his own vicin- 
ity. A connnanding church was selected, and, to ac- 
commodate the crowd who were expected, extra seats 
were put in the aisles, vestibule, and on the platform. 
The evening came, with the preacher, but the crowd 
came not. In the face of the vacant chairs and empty 
extra seats the services were conducted with a deaden- 
ing effect. New Yorkers did not know the preacher, 
and would not go to hear him. 

FOREIGNERS AND SUNDAY. 

The foreign population in the city is immense. 
Every nationality is represented. Should the great 
bell of the City Hall clang out its peal, and draw the 
population that live around it to its doors, a man stand- 
ing on the steps could speak to as motley a group as 
Peter addressed on the day of Pentecost. The Jews 
occupy whole streets, and drive out other nationalities. 
Their stores are open on Sunday, and a large part of 
them keep neither their own Sabbath nor ours. The 
Germans, Irish, Italians, Portuguese, abound. Noisy 
trade goes on in the quarters where foreigners live, 
and the Sabbath is filled with noisy, w\anton, and 
drunken violators. Places of amusement are many. 



In Nkw York. 145 

and dancing, drinking, and revelry, guided by heavy 
brass bands, girdle the city. The great mass of the 
foreign population attend no church. The Sabbath of 
the Continent is becoming common in the city. The 
observance of the day grows less and less. Pleasure- 
seekers are more open, and tlieir number is increased by 
the fashionable and influential. Every wave of foreign 
emigration lessens the dryland of religious observance. 
Churches are swept away, and none arise to take their 
place. The infidel German, the undevout Jew^, the 
illiterate foreign population, led by an omnipotent 
press, unite to create a popular sentiment that is push- 
ing out gradually, but surelj^, the observance of the 
Sabbath and the attendance on public worship. The 
Sabbath of the Hollanders promises to be a thing of 
the past. 

10 



146 Sunshine and Shadow 



XV. 

DETECTIVE FORCE OF NEW YORK. 

ITS ORIGIN. QUALIFICATIONS OF A DETFCTIVE. OLD HAYS. UOW THE 

DETECTIVES DO THEIR AVORK. — AVIIY ROGUES GO CLEAR. 

ITS ORIGIN. 

The system of detectives is not old. In former times 
the idea of a sharp criminal officer was expressed in 
the adage, '^Set a rogue to catch a rogue." The 
modern theory is, that integrity, tact, industry, are the 
best qualifications of a good detective. For many 
years there existed a set of men in London known as 
Bow Street officers. They were remarkably shrewd, 
were more than a match for the sharpest villains, 
.and could ferret out crimes and outwit the shrewdest 
rogues. When the London Metropolitan Police system 
was adopted, an order of men were introduced, called 
dctedives. This force was composed of men who 
seemed to have a gift for detecting crime. They could 
scent out a murder, and track the perpetrator over 
oceans and across continents. They could unravel the 
mysteries of a robbery, and bring to light things of 
darkmess. Under Mr. Matsell, in this city, a small force 
w^as gathered, and were known as shadows, because 
thej silently and persistently followed their victim. In 



In New York. 147 

1857, the detectives, as a distinct corps, were created. 
The force is small — about twenty-five men. It is very 
efficient. Captain Young, the chief, who has had many 
years' experience, is cool, keen, brave, clear-headed. He 
is so adroit in catching rogues and restoring stolen 
goods, that many persons, after their property has been 
returned to them, go to the commissioners and demand 
that Captain Young shall be tried for complicity. They 
do not believe that a man could bring back stolen 
property unless he has some share in the original 
theft. 

QUALIFICATIONS OF A DETECTIVE. 

Good detectives are rare. An unblemished character 
is indispensable, for the temptations are many. A detec- 
tive must be quick, talented, and possess a good mem- 
ory ; cool, unmoved, able to suppress all emotion ; have 
great endurance, untiring industry, and keen relish for 
his work ; put on all characters, and assume all dis- 
guises ; pursue a trail for weeks, or months, or years ; 
go anywhere at a moment's notice, on the land or sea ; 
go without food or sleep ; follow the slightest clew till 
he reaches the criminal ; from the simplest fragment 
bring crime to light ; surround himself with secrecy and 
mystery ; have great force of will ; a character without 
reproach, that property and persons may be safe in his 
hands ; with a high order of intellectual power. The 
modern detective system is based on the theory that pu- 
rity and intelligence has a controlling power over crime. 
Detectives must be pure men, and, like Caesar's wife, 
be above suspicion when they come out from the ordeal 
through which they have to pass. To obtain the right 
kind of men, the force has often to be sifted and purged. 



148 Sunshine and Shadow 



OLD HAYS. 

So the old High Constable of New York was known. 
He was the first real detective of the city. He was a 
short, thick-set, stout-built man, looking as if nature 
intended him for a giant, and altered her mind. He 
had a round, stolid face, of the hue of mahogany — a 
genuine Jewish physiognomy. He was an honest man, 
of high moral and religious character, and a consistent 
member of the Scotch Presbyterian Church, then wor- 
shipping in Grand Street. He lived in the time when 
the guardians of the city were watchmen. With their 
old camlet cloaks and huge lanterns, they prowled 
about the city at night, and were known as leather- 
heads, from the leather cap they wore. Hays had a 
small office in the Tombs. He was a regular autocrat, 
and held the monopoly of catching thieves. He was 
about the only police officer in the state who did any 
business. He was really a great man. So successful 
was he as a detective, tha.t his fame spread over the 
whole civilized world. He was as well known in 
London as in New York. He was a terror to evil- 
doers. " Old Hays is after you ! " would send juvenile 
scamps off at any time. He could track a rogue by 
instinct. Men believed he was in league with criminals 
all over the world, and that his religious profession was 
a sham and a blind. If a robber}'^ was committed in 
Boston, Philadelphia or Baltimore, Liverpool or London, 
the matter was put into the hands of Old Hays. Fif- 
teen years after his death, letters came from the chief 
of police, London, pertaining to criminals and crime, 
addressed to "Jacob Hays, High Constable of New 
York." 



In New York. 149 



HOW THE DETECTIVES DO THEIR WORK. 

Crime is not only systematized, but classified. Each 
adroit rogue has a way of doing things which is as 
personal as a man's handwriting. We have really few 
great men ; great orators, men of mark, distinguished 
authors, or men of towering success, are few. If a 
princely donation is made, or a noble. deed done, and 
the name withheld, the public at once point out the 
man — it would be so like him. Bad talented men are 
few. Adroit rogues are not many. Men capable of a 
dashing robbery, a bold burglary, or great crimes, do 
not abound. If a store is broken open in New York, a 
bank robbed in Baltimore, or a heavy forgery in Boston, 
the detectives will examine the w^ork and tell who did 
it. As painters, sculptors, artists, engravers, have a 
style peculiar to themselves, so have rogues. A Chi- 
cago burglar, a safe-breaker from Boston, a bank-robber 
from Philadelphia, a New York thief, have each their 
own way of doing things. They cannot go from one 
city to another without observation. If a crime is 
committed, and these gentlemen are round, detection 
is sure to follow. The telegraph binds the detective 
force together in all parts of the Union. A great crime 
is telegraphed to every leading city. When an adroit 
rogue leaves the city, his whereabouts are sent over the 
wires. The detective on his track is the o-entlemanly- 
looking, affable personage with whom he has been 
chatting in the railroad car. The ro^-ue lands in New 
York, and \\\{i friendly hand that helps him up the 
gang-plank, or off the platform, is that of a detective. 
A keen eye is upon him every moment till he is locked 



150 Sunshine and Shadow 

up or departs from the city. When he leaves, the car 
is not out of the station-house before the telegraph 
announces to some detective far away the departure 
and the destination. His haunts are known, his associ- 
ates, the men who receive stolen goods, and his partners 
in crime. 

WHY ROGUES GO CLEAR. 

The detectives often recover goods and money while 
the criminals escape. People wonder why the criminals 
are not brought to punishment. The first duty of the 
officer is to bring the offender to trial. But this cannot 
always be done. The evidence is often insufficient. 
The next best thing is to secure the money or property. 
Many robberies are committed in places of ill-repute. 
Parties are compromised. Victims from the country, 
who are respectable at home, do not like to read their 
names in the newspaper. Hundreds of thousands of 
dollars are annually returned to their owners through 
the detectives, which would have been lost wdthout 
their vigilance. 



In New York. 151 



XVI. 

A NIGHT AMONG THE DETECTIVES. 

HEADQUARTERS. THE ARREST OF A PICKPOCKET. AN OLD MAN IN TROU- 
BLE. A MINISTER IN TROUBLE. A SEA CAPTAIN IN DIFFICULTY. 

BURGLAR DETECTED BY A BUTTON.^ A SHADOW ON THE PATH. PRI- 
VATE DETECTIVES. HUMANITY^ OF DETECTIVES. THE OTEKO MURDER. 

HEADQUARTERS. 

In the elegant marble building on Mulberry Street, 
where the Metropolitan Police force centre, there will 
be found the headquarters of the detectives. Though 
it is under the charge of the general superintendent, 
the detectives are an independent body within the 
police force. The chief, Captain John S. Young, has 
been many years at the head of this department. He 
is a heavy-built, stocky person, with an immense head 
and face, sandy hair, somewhat curly, a stolid and 
heavy look, and nothing but his eye indicates that he 
is the sharpest, coolest, bravest, and most adroit detec- 
tive in the civilized world to-day. His room is homely, 
ill-furnished, and unsightly. He never seems to be 
doing anything, or to have anything on hand, or to be 
interested in anything. His associates in the room — a 
dozen men, more or less, dressed in quite ordinary citi- 
zens' clothes — lie round on the benches, straddle the 



1-j2 Sunshine and Shadow 

chairs, lean up against the wall, talking, smoking, and 
doing: nothino-, lookinor like a band of idle loafers with- 
out a purpose. In this group the uninitiated would fail 
to recognize the company of the most talented, perse- 
vering, sharp-sighted, keen-scented, and most successful 
criminal detectives ; men who have been in the 
criminal business from their boyhood ; men who have 
been selected from hundreds, and who have been in 
the force for a quarter of a century. They are silent, 
suspicious, secretive. They never talk of what they 
have on hand. Of the past the}^ will speak, of the 
future they have nothing to say. They have incidents 
and adventures in their possession more thrilling than 
any criminal novel ever written. In their room I 
passed a night not long since, and learned from them 
the romantic incidents that I am about to state. 

THE ARREST OF A PICKPOCKET. 

Said one of the detectives, " The chief called for 
me one da}^, and put a case in my hands, which I was 
required to work up. A gentleman of the city, who 
was supposed to be worth a fortune, suddenly failed. 
His failure was a bad one, but his honor was without a 
stain. He was guardian for two orphan children, and 
took the cars one morning for the purpose of investing 
some three thousand dollars that he held in the name 
of the children. When he reached tile office up town, 
where the investment was to be made, he found his 
money was gone. He had been robbed in the cars. 
In great distress he came to the office, and communi- 
cated his loss to the chief He said, when he was rich 
his tale of robbery would have been believed j now 



In New York. 153 

he was poor, it would be said that he had robbed him- 
self. I examined the man closely, and had no doubt 
that his story was a true one. He had but little light 
-to throw on the robbery. The car was crowded, and 
he stood on the platform. He remembered that during 
the passage, as a person got out of the car, a young 
man was thrown ai2:ainst him. He had a dim recollec- 
tion of the person, thinking no wrong at the time. 
Car-robbing is very common, but it is very delicate 
business, and few can do it well. I had my suspicions 
as to who committed the robbery. I took a car to go 
down town. In it was the very person I was in search 
of His new clothes, new hat, and boots, and watch, 
indicated that he was flush. I stopped the car, touched 
the young man on the shoulder, and told him to follow 
me. His fjxce crimsoned in an instant, and I knew that 
I had got my man. I took him to the station-house, 
and accused him of the crime. I told him that the man 
who had lost the money would, in the language of 
pickpockets, 'buff him to death' if he did not restore 
the money; but if he would ' turn up the money' he 
might clear out. These robbers, all of them, have ac- 
complices. They never can tell when they '• peach.' I 
had no evidence that would convict this person. No 
judge would hold him a minute on my suspicion, but 
tbe thief did not know that. He pulled off his boots, 
and the monej^ came back, all but one hundred dollars 
which he had spent. The grateful merchant received 
it with jtears of joy." 



154 Sunshine and Shadow 



AN OLD MAN IN TROUBLE. 

« Yery few men who come here for relief," said one 
of the officers, " tell the truth. They make up all sorts 
of stories to impose upon us, to save their reputation, 
and to keep themselves out of trouble. If a man tells 
us the truth ; if he has been robbed at a bad house, 
and will say so ; will give us the number of the house, 
and describe the parties by whom he has been robbed 
or wronged, we can relieve him. We can go on board 
of a train of cars filled with hundreds of people, and 
tap a pickpocket on his shoulder, and say, 'I want to 
see you, sir,' and never make a mistake. We can take 
a telegraphic description of a rogue, and with it walk 
up Broadway, where thousands are rushing along, pick 
out our man and march him to the Tombs, and never 
get the wrong person. One day a sedate-looking man 
from the rural districts called at our office. Pie was a 
merchant, he said. He came to the city to buy goods. 
He had been robbed of fifteen hundred dollars, which 
he was to pay that day. He was a ruined man unless 
he could recover his money. He named the hotel 
where he staid, and in which he had been robbed. 
His room-mate, a man unknown to him, was asleep 
when he went to bed, and asleep when he left the 
room in the morning. He had not been out of the 
hotel since tea, till he discovered his robbery. The 
man must have robbed him, and he wanted him arrested 
at once. Captain Young was satisfied that the man 
was not telling the truth. He put the case in my 
hand, and ordered me to work it up. I went to the 
hotel, and found everything right there. The room- 



In New York. 155 

mate was a merchant from the west, of unquestioned 
integrity. I came to the conchision that the man had 
not told us the truth. I knew that he had been out 
of the hotel, had been into disreputable company, and 
had been robbed. I sent for the victim, and he came, 
accompanied by a friend, who promised to vouch for 
his honesty. I said to him, ' Sir, you have lied to me. 
You lost your money in bad company by the panel 
game.' At first he denied it with great vehemence, 
then he evaded, and finally confessed. With a slight 
clew as to the locality, I found the panel thief, and 
brought back the money," 

A MINISTER IN TROUBLE. 

"One day some very excellent people came to the 
headquarters to complain. The city was unsafe for 
respectable men ; people could not walk about the 
streets without assault and robbery. It was a pretty 
state of things if gentlemen could not walk the streets 
of New York at seasonable hours, without being beaten, 
bullied, and robbed, and their life endangered. ^ And 
what is the matter now ? ' said the officer. ' We are 
respectable citizens,' said the complainers, ' and officers 
of a church. Our minister was assaulted, and beaten, 
and robbed last night in one of the streets. He came 
over to New York yesterday afternoon on business. 
He was returning through Beekman Street about ten 
o'clock. When near Cliff Street a band of rowdies as- 
sailed him, knocked him down, beat him, muddied and 
tore his clothes, robbed him of his watch and money, 
and he reached his affrighted family almost dead.' 
The case was put into our hands. The night on which 



156 SUZTSHOE AND ShADOW 

the assault was said to have taken place was a beauti- 
ful, bright moonlight evening. The place of assault 
was so near the station-house, that the cry of distress 
would have been heard by the captain at his desk. At 
that time of night, a m.an would have been as safe on 
Beekman Street as on Broadway. It so happened that 
two of our officers were on that spot within five minutes 
of the time the assault was said to have taken place, 
conversing; on matters that detained them tenor fifteen 
minutes. I was satisfied that no assault had taken 
jDlace, that no robbery had been committed ; that the 
whole story was trumped up to hide some disgraceful 
conduct in which the party said to have been wronged 
was engaged. 

" With this imjDression, I sent to the minister. He 
was greatly annoyed that his people had taken any 
notice of the matter, or brought it to the attention of 
the authorities. I told him it had been broua;ht to our 
attention ; that we were censured for neglect of duty, 
and that the fame of the city suftered ; that we in- 
tended to probe the matter to the bottom; that we 
intended to follow him every step that he had taken 
that afternoon, from the time he left home till he re- 
turned. We would know all his companions, and all 
the company he had kept that day. I told him his 
story was an improbable one ; that it was impossible 
that the robbery could have occurred at that time or 
place ; the night was too light, the hour was too early, 
it was too near the station-house, and more than that, 
two of our captains were on the spot at that time, and 
they knew the story was not true. If he had a mind 
to make a clean breast of it, and tell the facts as they 



In New York. 157 

were, I would keep his name from the public ; if not, I 
would make a thorough investigation, and pul^lit^li his 
name to the world. He was greatly agitated, blamed 
his friends for meddling in the matter, began to cry, 
aud at length made a clean breast of it. He had been 
drinking that afternoon, went where he ought not to 
go, and was robbed of his money and his watch. He 
must account for his situation, did not want to be dis- 
graced, and so had trumped up the story he told to his 
elders. The affair was hushed up." 

A SEA CAPTAIN IN DIFFICULTY. 

" The harbor police notified us," said one of the detec- 
tives, " that a ship was lost ofi" Sandy Hook by fire. As 
the case was reported, there were some things about the 
loss that did not look right. The next day the papers 
blazed with an account of a bold robbery. It was said 
that a sea captain lost a large sum of money at Bar- 
num's. The captain was said to have been peculiarly 
unfortunate. He lost his ship by fire off Sandy Hook. 
He had just been paid his insurance, a very large sum, 
which he was to take to his owners in New Enodand. 
He visited Barnum's with the money in his pocket, and 
on leaving the place it was gone. The audacious rob- 
bery flamed in every paper. The statements were 
so nearly verbatim, that it was evident the captain 
had Avritten them himself or furnished the material. 
The captain issued handbills, offering a reward of five 
hundred dollars for the recovery of his money. The 
handbills were circulated only among the shipping and 
on the wharves. In a few days we received a visit 
from the captain at headquarters. I was put in charge 



l.o8 Sunshine and Shadow 

of the case, and I took down the captain's statement. It 
differed but sHghtly from those made in the papers. I 
was satisfied that he had not been robbed at all. I 
strongly suspected that there was foul play in the de- 
struction of his vessel, and that the captain intended to 
appropriate the money. Making up my mind how he 
did this, I directly accused him of the fraud, and de- 
scribed the manner in which the affair was done. He 
supposed I knew the whole matter, although he could 
not imagine how I got hold of it, and was greatly 
excited. He was astounded when I told him that the 
money was in his inner vest pocket, and that if he did 
not take it out at once I should search him, and he 
must take the consequences. I hit the thing exactly. 
He had his money hid away in the place I had desig- 
nated. In tears and in terror he brought forth the 
money, wdiich was restored to the owner. We could 
not hold the man for a criminal trial on the evidence we 
had, and so let him run. He has never sailed from 
New York since." 

BURGLAR DETECTED BY A BUTTON. 

A large silk house in New York was robbed of silks 
and velvets valued at many thousand dollars. The 
burglars hired an old building adjoining the store. 
They cut a hole through the wall, entered the store, 
and carried away the goods. The job was a clean one, 
and no trace of the robber was left. The police shook 
their heads, and the merchants feared they were ruined. 
One of the shrewdest detectives had the case put into 
his hands. He examined the premises carefully. The 
hole in the wall was a small one, and the burglar 



In New York. 159 

pqiieezed himself through with difficulty. In a little 
crevice a button was found of a very peculiar fashion. 
A little plaster adhered to it, indicating that it had 
been rubbed off as the robber passed through. The 
detective put the button in his pocket. He had a clew, 
very slight, but still it was a clew. There are certain 
resorts in this city for thieves, burglars, and rogues. 
Here they can be found when off dut}^ Detectives 
l^ass in and out among these desperate men. They 
never meddle with them on ordinary occasions. They 
are seldom disturbed by the desperadoes, or resisted if 
they make an arrest. It is well known that the detec- 
tives go armed, and have no delicacy in the use of 
weapons. They are selected for their personal bravery 
no less than for their intelligence and integrity. The 
detective, with the button in his pocket, visited more 
frequently these haunts than he was accustomed to. 
The burglars knew something was the matter; but as 
the detective said nothing* and molested no one, the 
rog^ues were not disturbed. One evening: the detective 
stood at the door of one of our low places of amuse- 
ment. A man passed him who had peculiar buttons 
on his coat. The buttons resembled the one the officer 
had in his pocket. He was sure that he had found his 
man. He followed him to his seat, sat down beside him, 
and seemed intent on the play. He was not so intent, 
however, but that he saw that the party he was watch- 
ing had one button less on his coat than he ought to 
have. He immediately left his seat, went outside, and 
made arrangement for aid to make an arrest. He came 
back to his seat, touched the astonished stranger on 
the shoulder, and invited him outside. Here a corps of 



160 Sunshine and Shadow 

policemen were waiting to receive liiiiij and he saw 
that resistance was useless. Knowing that the man 
could not be held an hour with no proof but a button, 
the detective set himself to work to get the goods. He 
accused the man of the robbery, showed him how it 
was done, and hit the case so exactly that the burglar 
believed that some of his confederates had made a con- 
fession. He led the officers to the spot where the 
goods were concealed. The party was tried and sent 
to the State Prison for a term of years. The button 
did more than that. The arrest of this man put the 
detectives on the track of other burglars. They fol- 
lowed up the matter for months, broke up a den of the 
most desperate robbers, lodged many of them in prison, 
among whom was the famous Bristol Bill of England. 

A SHADOW ON THE PATH. 

Small sums of money from time to time were taken 
from one of our city banks. No clew to the robbery 
could be found. A detective was consulted : he said 
that the robber was in the bank. A watch was put on 
all employees, but in vain. The money continued to 
go. The affair was put into the hands of a detective. 
All unknown to the clerks, this officer visited the bank 
at all hours, came in various disguises and under vari- 
ous pretences. He was satisfied that the robber was in 
the bank, and he fastened on one of the clerks as that 
individual. He followed the clerk fourteen days, at the 
end of which a written statement of the whereabouts 
of the clerk was presented to the bank. It was a per- 
fect curiosity. The detective had not lost sight of the 
whereabouts of the young man a single hour. The 



In New York. * IGl 

clerk lived out of town. The detective rode on the 
cars with him every day. He sailed on the boats, 
walked in the country, rode in the city. Every place 
the clerk went into was written down, how long he 
staid, what he ate and drank, and whom he talked 
with. A description was given of each person he talked 
with, the places of amusement he visited, and what he 
paid out. Among other things the record told, was his 
visits to o-amino' and other houses ; what time he went • 
to bed ; and twice he rose at two in the morning, left 
his house, and met certain parties, who were accurately 
described. How a man could be followed fourteen 
days, especially in the country, all that he is doing be 
known, everybody he speaks to described, and the 
man watched be ignorant of it, is one of the mysteries 
of the detective system. The clerk was called into the 
president's room and charged with the peculations. He 
was overwhelmed with the accuracy with which his 
coming in and going out were noted. He confessed 
his guilt. The directors were merciful, and did not 
subject him to a criminal prosecution. 

PRIVATE DETECTIVES. 

The success of detectives in criminal matters, as a 
part of the police, has created a private detective sys- 
tem, which is at the service of any one who can pa}' for 
it. It is a spy system, — a system of espionage that is 
not creditable or safe. Men are watched and tracked 
about the city by these gentlemen, and one cannot tell 
when a spy is on his track. A jealous wife will put a 
detective on the track of her husband, who will fol- 
low him for weeks if paid for it, and lay before her a 
11 



162 Sunshine and Shadow 

complete programme of his acts and expenditures. If 
a man wants a divorce, he hires a detective to furnish 
the needed evidence. Slander suits are got up, con- 
'ducted, and maintained often by this agency. Divorce 
suits are carried through our courts by evidence so 
obtained. Sudden explosions in domestic life, the dis- 
solution of households, and fjimily separations, originate 
in this system. It is not very comforting to know that 
' such shadows are on our paths. 

THE HUMANITY OF DETECTIVES. 

It is difficult to deceive a criminal detective. He can 
read a man at a glance. He knows a bogus story from 
a real one. He can tell a hardened criminal from a 
novice. Pilferings were constantly going on from one 
of our leadini)!: bankino; houses. As usual a detective 
was called in. He immediately selected the criminal 
in the person of a young clerk, who was bright and 
talented, came from an excellent home in the coun- 
try, and np to that time had borne an unblem- 
ished character. The banker scouted the idea that the 
young man was a criminal. The clerk was called in, 
and to the sorrow and astonishment of his employer he 
confessed the thefts. The ugly secret was known only 
to the banker and the detective. The detective inter- 
ceded for the young man, pleaded his home education 
and principles, the sudden temptations that surrounded 
him, his capacity to make a useful man, while, if he was 
discharged, his crimes would become public, his char- 
acter be ruined, and he become a criminal, to end his 
days in prison. Impressed with the representation, the 
banker decided to give the young man a trial. He 



P 



In New York. 163 

called him again into his presence. " I will not dis- 
honor you," said the banker; " I will not discharge you. 
I'll keep you, and if you will let me, will make a man 
of you." He then showed him how he carried on his 
business ; that even a penny could not be abstracted 
and the cash account not show it. The young man 
replied, '^ Your humanity shall not be misplaced." The 
other day this young clerk was elected cashier of a 
bank, and his old employer became his bondsman. A 
young man, bright and talented, placed in unusual 
temptation, was rescued from ruin, saved to his country 
and saved to himself, by the humanity and wisdom of 
a detective. 

THE OTERO MURDER. 

No case was ever more finely worked up than this. 
A stranger was found brutally murdered in one of the 
parks of Brooklyn. No clew to the murderer could be 
found. The chief of the detective department detailed 
his best men on the case. A pair of gloves were found 
near the place of the murder, with a slash on the back 
of one of them : that was all. An Italian steamer was 
to sail for Ital}^, and crowds of Italians were on the 
wharf taking leave of their friends. The detective 
sauntered down, for no particular reason. He went on 
the deck of the vessel, but saw nothing particular to 
interest him, and went again on the dock. Just as he 
was preparing to leave, he saw a man coming towards 
the vessel. Before the approaching man had come 
near enough to the officer to be spoken to, the detec- 
tive had taken an inventory of him. There was nothing 
about him suspicious but his hands. He had on a pair 
of new gloves quite too large. The way in which he 



164 Sunshine and Shadow 

held his hands showed that something was the matter 
with them. His face indicated agony. The fatal gloves 
found near the body of the murdered man in the park 
were in the pocket of the detective. He felt certain 
that the approaching stranger had something to do 
with the murder. He was at once arrested, his gloves 
removed, his gory hands laid bare, and the cut w^as found 
to correspond with that in the gloves. The imprison- 
ment, trial, and punishment are well known. As a 
part of the great governing power of the land, the 
detective system is powerful, effective^, silent. 



In New York. 165 



XVII. 

THE TOMBS ON SUNDAY MORNING, 



HOW THE PKISON LOOKS. — INSIDE VIEW. — THE COURT-KOOM. THE JUDGE 

ON THE BENCH. DIVINE SERVICE. 



HOW THE PRISON LOOKS. 



The City Prison is located on Centre Street. It oc- 
cupies an entire square. It is a low building, looking 
not unlike the Bank of England. The portion of the 
prison which appears to the eye of the passer-by is 
really the prison wall. The interior is a quadrangle, 
filled with cells, several stories hiorh. There are three 
R prisons, one for men, one for women, and one for boys. 
In the yard directly in front of the matron's apartment 
is the site on which the gallows stands when criminals 
are hung. The prison is of white granite, built in the 
Egyptian style of architecture, and hence its name — 
The Tombs. It was built under a resolution of the Com- 
mon Council, passed in 1835, when an appropriation was 
made of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It is 
the smallest city prison in America, and wholly inade- 
quate to the necessities of New York. It contains various 
court rooms. It is a house of detention and a jail. It 
is a gloomy structure, very safe, and kept scrupulously 
clean. The cells are small, and are lighted by an 



166 Sunshine and Shadow 

oblique cut in the wall, which prevents the common 
prisoners from looking out. Over the main entrance 
are five or six comfortable cells commanding a view of 
the street and all that passes. Here aristocratic rogues 
are confined, such as Jenkins, Ketchum, and other 
rascals whose crimes are heavy enough to allow them 
to live in style while in prison. 

inside view. 

The Tombs is a suggestive place at an early hour on 
Sunday. Saturday night is a " gala day " with the low 
city population. With money in the pocket, and no 
work to do the next morning, men crowd the drinking 
places, break the peace, and are arrested by the whole- 
sale. There is a room in the prison known as the 
Bummers' Cell. It will hold about two hundred. In it 
persons arrested on Saturday night are confined. Here 
are to be found all characters, classes, conditions, and 
ages ', drunkards, brawlers, rioters, boys, men, some well- 
dressed, some on their first spree ; well-to-do mechanics^, 
even respectable citizens, with men crazed by bad rum, 
or yelling with delirium tremens, making a Pande- 
monium not found outside of New York. The court 
room juts into the prison yard, and the prisoners are 
brought before the justice through a rear door, and are 
not carried outside at all. The court opens at six 
o'clock on Sunday morning, and a large part of the 
prisoners are discharged. Many of them are arrested 
without cause; though the captain at the station-house 
is satisfied of that fiict, he can discharge no one. He 
must lock up all who are brought to him. The in- 
nocent and the guilty pass the night in the station- 



In New York. 1G7 

house, to be discharged, if discharged at all, by the 
justice the next morning. 

THE COURT-ROOIM. 

Precisely at six o'clock Justice Dowling takes his 
seat on the bench. He is apparently about thirty- 
five years of age, short in stature, with a dark eye of 
remarkable brilliancy, prompt, and decided. Before 
him are brought a motley crowd. He inquires into 
each case, and is judge, jury, and counsel. He decides 
at once, as the prisoners come before him — fine, im- 
prisonment, or discharge. He reads intuitively the 
characters, knows when the parties are telling the 
truth, has sympathy with the poor creatures who are 
on trial, leans to the side of mercy, stands between the 
prisoner arid the oppressor, becomes an advocate when 
the complainant is disposed to be crushing, and with 
the advice he gives, his warnings -and admonitions, and 
even in his judgments, he sits more as a father than as 
a stern judge. Nearly all the arrests are for drunken- 
ness, or for crimes growing out of it. Well-to-do men 
and very good-looking women from the rural districts, 
who come in to see the sights, get tipsy, and visit 
Judge Dowling before they leave the city. If parties 
are drunk, and not disorderly, they are invariably dis- 
charged. Parties who are arrested for the first time, 
or who are not known to the police as having been 
arrested before, are discharged. Wit, humanity, and 
good nature, with strong common sense, unite in the 
judge. Persons frequently make complaints from re- 
venge. Women come to complain of their husbands, 
and husbands of their wives. The keen, discriminating 



168 Sunshine and Shadow 

judge turns the tables, and often sends the prisoners 
out of court, and the complainant into the cells. When 
the order is given to bring in the prisoners, it is a 
sio-ht to see. A hundred or two come in with a rush. 
Young women in the latest style of dress, a little the 
worse for a night in the Tombs ; old men tattered and 
torn, hatless and without shoes, looking as if they had 
escaped from Bedlam ; battered and dilapidated wo- 
men, with black or bloody eyes ; women whose faces 
have been beaten to a jelly by their husbands ; boys 
of thirteen, hardened as if they had graduated from 
prison ; young clerks handsomely dressed, with flashing 
jewelry ; respectable men, standing well in society ; 
burglars, thieves, pickpockets, black, tawny, and white, 
of every nationality, and in every possible condition, 
all huddled together, to answer for misdemeanors or 
breaches of the peace. 

THE JUDGE ON THE BENCH. 

The roll before the judge contains the name of every 
person arrested, or such name as he chooses to give. 
As his name is called, each party stands up before 
the judge. The officer gives his testimony, the prisoner 
tells his story, and the judge decides whether the par- 
ty shall be discharged, be fined, or be remanded to 
his cell for trial at the Court of Sessions. It is a 
curiosity to study the face, hear the testimony, and 
listen to the administration of justice. Two maidens 
from the sidewalk are brought up, with their veils 
down and faces hid. To the stern command of the 
officer in charge the veil is lifted, if not, the veil comes 
off, bonnet and all. The girls were fighting at the 



In New York. 169 

corner of the street, and would not move on. " You 
have made it up," said the judge ; " then shake hands 
and go." An old rum-soaked woman pleads for mercy. 
" No ; I'll send you up. It will do you good, and take 
the rum out of you." A young girl of sixteen begs to 
be allowed to go home ; she only got a little tight, she 
says. " Well, go, but don't you come here, again." But 
she does not go. The next case called brings her up 
on to the stand again. " Didn't I tell you to go ? " said 
the judge. "Yes, sir; but I want to take rny friend 
with me. She was no worse than I was." " Then vou 
are not content to go by yourself?" "No, sir. It 
won't hurt your honor to be kind to the poor girl." 
" Well, go, and don't you let me see either of you inside 
this court again." And away they go, locked in each 
other's arms, dancing out of the door. A man com- 
plains of a dilapidated-looking woman for breaking 
every window in his house. " What did you do to her 
to induce her to do that ? " the judge says. " Nothing. 
She w^anted to stay in my house, and there was no 
room, and I turned her out, and then she broke my 
windows." " What sort of a house do you keep ? " 
" A boarding-house." " Yes, I know what sort of a 
boarding-house you keep. You live on the blood and 

j bones of these poor creatures, and when they can't 
serve you any longer, you kick them into the street. 

I You ought to be ashamed of yourself, a great, big, 
burly fellow like you engaged in such business. 
She broke your windows, did she ? She ought to 
have broken your head. If you are ever brought 
before me, as you will be very soon, I'll send you to 
the penitentiary. Now clear out. I won't hear a word 



170 Sunshine and Shadow 

from you." To the criminal he says, " I shall have to 
commit you for a breach of the peace. But if you 
break any more windows, I shall send you to the peni- 
tentiary." A man is arrested for beating his wife. 
Her face is pummelled to a jelly. When asked for her 
testimony, she says, with trembling, " I don't want to 
harm him." "Can you support yourself?" the judge 
asks. " 0, yes, your honor. I have to support myself, 
and him too." " Then I'll send him where he won't 
beat you any more, for six months at least." A woman 
brino;s a charg-e ag:ainst her husband for beatino; her. 
The husband admits the chastisement ; but he has four 
small children, his wife gets drunk every day, and 
pawns the bread off of the table for rum. " Well," the 
judge says, " it is a hard case, but you mustn't strike 
your wife. If she gets drunk again come to me. I'll 
send her where she can't pawn your bread." 

And so the trials go on. Full two thirds are dis- 
charged. With many it is the first offence. With 
others a night in the prison is punishment enough. 
Many belong to the navy : they are sent to their ships. 
Many live in Jersey, Hoboken, Brooklyn, Harlem, Mott 
Haven. They promise to leave the city and never 
come back, and are generally escorted over the river. 
I doubt if anywhere else justice is meted out in such 
generous measure as in the Tombs. Hardened villains, 
and real scamps and rogues, have little chance ; but 
the poor creatures who have no one to care for them 
have a friend in the judge. Often a gleam of sunshine 
lights up the dreary room, and the laugh goes round. 
He sends a prisoner out to find the witness who fiiils 
to come and testify against him. Somebody's kitchen 



- In New York. 171 

misses a cook on Sunday morning. She appears before 
the judge, well dressed, but very much asharhed. " Do 
you suppose you can find your way home ? " the judge 
says to her. " Well, go, but don't do that again." To 
another, " Go ; but if you come here again, I'll send you 
to the penitentiary." So with caution, entreaty, ex- 
postulation, and judgment, justice is administered at 
the Tombs. 

DIVINE SERVICE. 

The Sisters of Charity have the women and boys 
under their charge. They have a fine chapel in the 
upper part of the Tombs all to themselves ; no one is 
allowed to disturb them, and visitors are excluded. 
The Protestant worship is without chapel or room for 
service. The preacher stands on the platform of the 
corridor, and the bummers are brought from their cell 
and placed in the lower part of the long hall-way. 
Some sit on the few benches that are provided, some 
sit on the stone floor, many stand. The prisoners in 
their cells cannot be seen by the preacher. They can 
hear or not as they please. Company is allowed in 
the cells durino; service. The hum of conversation 
goes on ; the prisoners read, smoke, or write ; walk, sit, 
or go to bed. Besides the iron-grated door wdiicli the 
keepers lock, there is an inside, closely-fitting wooden 
door, which the prisoners can shut if they please, and 
which they often do. If the preacher says anything 
they do not like, they throw it to, with a slam. A little 
shelf, screwed on to the iron railing of the platform, 
makes the pulpit. There is no music, no singing, noth- 
ing attractive. The service is constantly interrupted 
by the business of the court. Prisoners are called for, 



172 Sunshine and Shadow 

their names shouted out, and they are brought down 
from one tier of cells to another, for trial or discharge. 
The buzz of talk is heard, the yawning of the weary, 
the prisoners mocking or imitating the preacher, and 
blending with all this is the yell of the maniac and 
the howl of the victim of delirium tremens. The con- 
trast between the Catholic service in prison and the 
Protestant is very marked. The Catholic w^orship is 
made attractive and enjoyable. Pleasing Sisters of 
Charity take charge of the services, and able priests 
minister at the altar. The Protestant worship is as 
bare, tedious, and unattractive as can be imagined. 
There is little in it that is tender, affectionate, or win- 
ning. It can be, and ought to be, at once improved. 



I 



In New York. 173 



XVIII. 

POLICE FORCE OF NEW YORK. 



THE OLD SYSTE3I. ATTEMPT AT KEFORM. UNIFORM REBELLION. — MET- 
ROPOLITAN SYSTEM. GENERAL SUPERINTENDENTS. THE POLICE AT 

THEIR WORK. THE HARBOR PRECINCT. HEADQUARTERS. — THE FULL 

POLICE FORCE. THE OFFICIAL STATEMENT. 

THE OLD SYSTEM. 

No city in the world, except London and Paris, has 
a poHce which, in efficiency, disciphne, and character, 
equals that of New York. It took many years, many 
experiments, and many changes, to perfect the system. 
Previous to 1844, New York was guarded by the '•' Old 
Leather-heads." This force patrolled the city at night, 
or that part of it known as the lamp district. Tliey 
were not watchmen by profession. They were cart- 
men, stevedores, porters, and laborers. They were 
distinguished by a fireman's cap without front (hence 
their name, leather-heads), an old camlet coat, and a 
lantern. They kept out of harm's way, and did not 
visit the dark portions of the city. Thieves and rogues 
were advised of their locality by their crying the hour 
of the night. The whole city above Fourteenth Street 
was a neglected region. It was beyond the lamp 



174 Sunshine and Shadow 

district, and in the dark. Under Mayor Harper an 
attempt was made to introduce a municipal police, uni- 
formed and disciplined, after the new London sj-stem. 
Popular sentiment was too strong to make the attempt 
a success, but it was a step in the right direction, and 
j)roduced good results. The old watch system was 
abolished, and a day and night police created for one 
year as an experiment. The force had miscellaneous 
duties to perform. Policemen were to keep the peace, 
light the street lamps, be dock-masters, street-inspectors, 
health-officers, and fire-wardens. The police were in 
the hands of the maj-or and aldermen. They did the 
will of as unscrupulous and corrupt a band of men as 
ever held power — men who were unscrupulous parti- 
sans and politicians. The guardians of the city were 
the tools of corrupt and designing men : a terror to 
good people, and an ally of rogues. Citizens slept in 
terror, and all New York arose and demanded a reform. 

ATTEMPT AT REFORM. 

Mr. Havemeyer became mayor. His first work was 
to rescue the police from the hands of politicians. He 
was a Democrat, and did not want the odium of failure 
to fall on his party. Selecting good men from all 
parties to be on the police, he wanted the government 
to be composed of Ayiiigs and Democrats also. Of the 
newly-constructed force, George W. Matsell was made 
the chief Rigid rules were made for the appointment 
of policemen. Applications must be made in writing, 
with recommendations from well-known citizens. The 
antecedents of candidates were inquired into, and they 
were examined in reading, writing, and physical sound- 



In New York. 175 

ness. A vigorous and efficient body of men became 
guardians of the city. The poUce wore no uniform or 
badge of authority except a star. 

After a number of years the pohce force became, as 
before, the tool of corrupt poKticians. Their fidelity 
was tampered with, and their efficiency marred. The 
board of aldermen, the most corrupt that New York 
ever knew, made the force an instrument of their will. 
The police were in their power, and they could break 
them at will. The aldermen interfered directly with 
the execution of justice. They were magistrates as 
well as aldermen. The rogues of the city were their 
friends. If the police made arrests, the aldermen dis- 
charged the prisoner, and probably punished the officer. 
Nothing was safe in New York, and general alarm pre- 
vailed. Great crimes were openly committed and un- 
punished. The people cried to the Legislature for re- 
lief, and the police were taken out of the hands of the 
Common Council. They were put into the hands of 
a commission, composed of the recorder, the city 
- judge, and the mayor. 

UNIFORM REBELLION. 

The new commission decided to uniform the force. 
The police refused to wear it. They were no serfs, 
they said, and would wear no badge of servility to 
please any one. Politicians, mad that their power was 
gone, fomented the discontent, strengthened the re- 
bellion, and promised to stand by. the police in their 
defiance of law. An indignation meeting was called, 
and the arbitrary and servile order denounced. Mayor 
Westervelt and Recorder Tillon, the commissioners, 



176 Sunshine and Shadow 

were men not to be trifled with. They dismissed at 
once every man connected with the meeting. The re- 
fractory men denied the right of the commission to 
dismiss them. They appealed to the court, and after 
an exciting and almost turbulent hearing, the dismissal 
was sustained. 

While honest men filled the office of ma^^or, recorder, 
and judge, the force was efficient; but when bold, un- 
scrupulous, and corrupt men bore rule, the worst days of 
the police came back, and they became again mere tools 
of personal and political ambition. The people again, 
without distinction of party, cried to the Legislature 
for relief 

METROPOLITAN SYSTEM. 

It was necessary to take the police out of the hands 
of New York officials, who depended on rogues and 
rascals for their nomination and election. The low 
foreign population of New York, keepers of dens of 
infamy, the depraved, the dissolute, and the violators 
of law, who, in the vilest places, nominated the highest 
officers, and who could elect men or defeat them, would 
not be much afraid of officers who could be dismissed 
or discharged at the beck of their friends. So the 
Metropolitan District was created, including the City, 
Brooklyn, Richmond, King's, a part of Queen's, and 
Westchester counties, making a circuit of about thirty 
miles. The authority was vested in a board of com- 
missioners, composed of five citizens, and the mayors 
of New York and Brooklyn, the board to be under the 
control of tlie Legislature. Fernando Wood was mayor 
of the city. He saw the aim of the new law, and 
resolved to resist it. The old board held over, and re- 



In New York. 177 

fused to resign. Mr. Wood inaugurated civil war on a 
small scale. He gathered the old force into the City 
Hall, and resisted unto blood. The old police, having 
nothing to hope from the new order of things, joined 
Mr. Wood in his defiance of law. The resistance took 
a political shape. The whole city was excited. It was* 
said that the gutters would run with blood. A riot 
broke out in the Park. The Seventh Regiment, march- 
ing down Broadway to embark for Boston, were halted 
in front of the City Hall, and grounded their arms, ready 
for a general fray. The case was taken into the courts. 
Charles O'Connor, who defended Wood, pledged his 
professional reputation to the crowd that the Court of 
Appeals would sustain his client. The police bill was 
pronounced constitutional, and Mr. Wood appeared and 
took his seat at the board as one of the commission. 

GENERAL SUPERINTENDENTS. 

The efficiency of the new order of things would 
depend very much upon the general superintendent, 
who was the executive officer. The choice fell on 
Frederick A. Talmadge, formerly- recorder of the city, 
an upright, honest man, but with scarcely an element 
that made him fit to command a force of eighteen 
hundred of the shrewdest men in the state. Mr. Amos 
Pilsbury succeeded Mr. Talmadge. He was in charge 
of the State Penitentiary at Albany. As a manager 
of criminals he had no equal. The penitentiary of 
which he was warden was the model penitentiary of 
the land. His power over desperate men made him 
famous in all quarters of the civilized globe. Men 
came from the principal cities in Europe to examine 

12 



178 Sunshine and Shadow 

• 

this wonderful institution. The penitentiary was as 
n,eat as a Quaker seminary. No milHonnaire could boast 
of a more elegant garden. The discipline was marvel- 
lous, and the economy by which the institution was 
managed exceeded all praise. The State Pauper Es- 
tablishment, at Ward's Island, was conducted in a most 
extravagant style. Captain Pilsbury was called down 
to reform the concern. He produced a change as by 
magic. He knew to a farthing what would support 
life, how much a pauper ought to eat, how many should 
sit around the keeper's table, and what it should cost 
to supply it. He bought every cent's worth that was 
used on the island. He set hearty, fat, and idle pau- 
pers to work. He made everybody earn his own bread. 
The sick and the indolent he banished. His success in 
infusino; economv on the island was marvellous. He 
flitted back and forth between Albany and New York ; 
and to his position and pay as warden he added the 
emolument and authority of keeper of Ward's Island. 

Mr. Pilsbury was elected superintendent of police. 
If he could manage desperate men in prison, and make 
money out of a thousand paupers, what could he not 
do with a police force of eighteen hundred men ? He 
refused the appointment, for his double position and 
double pay were far better than the three thousand 
dollars offered by the commission. He was allowed to 
retain his position at Albany and at Ward's Island, with 
the compensation connected with each office. To this 
was added three thousand dollars a year as superintend- 
ent. If the whole did not amount to ten thousand dol- 
lars a year, the balance was to be made up to him by 
the commission. His appointment was hailed with 



In New York. 179 

delight. The Harpers pubhshed a portrait of the com- 
ing man, with a vigorous hfe-sketch. His progress 
from Albany to New York was telegraphed. His con- 
nection with the force was a lamentable failure. In 
prison discipline and pauper economy he had no rival ; 
but he had no ability to control a large body of men, 
shrewd and intelligent. In an hour they measured 
him. and rode over him roug^h shod. He divided the 
board to checkmate Mr. Wood, and formed a ring 
within a ring all against himself He took men into his 
confidence who were agents of his enemies, and who 
betrayed him. Unable to carry the board with him in 
his measures, Mr. Pilsbury resigned. He had no chance 
to display his peculiar talents. As an economist he 
was not wanted. He handled no money, and his order 
to the value of a dollar would not be recognized. To 
marshal men, to move and control them, he had no 
ability. 

John Alexander Kennedy was appointed superin- 
tendent in 1860. Important changes had been in- 
troduced into the law. The commission was reduced 
to three. The superintendent, the inspectors and pa- 
trolmen had their duties assigned to them. But com- 
plaints were made against the discipline of the force. 
They went without uniform ; could not be found when 
wanted ; lounged, smoked, and entered houses to rest ; 
visited drinking saloons, and committed other mis- 
demeanors. A new rank was created. Inspectors were 
placed over the captains, and made responsible for the 
good conduct of the men while on duty. They went 
everywhere, and at all times; watched the captains, 
examined the books and the station-houses, and reported 



180 Sunshine and Shadow 

every breach of discipline that they saw. Their coming 
and going were erratic. They turned up unexpectedly, 
and made summary complaints in all cases where of- 
ficers or men neglected their duty. 

With the new order of things, Mr. Kennedy com- 
menced his official duties. He was offered the position 
fifteen years before by Mayor Havemeyer. Of Scotch- 
Irish parentage, small in stature, unobtrusive in his 
manner, and of few words, he has tact, executive ability, 
is quick in his perceptions, prompt in his decisions, and 
of indomitable pluck, and is eminently fitted for his 
position. He is not a man for show. He seldom wears 
uniform, or any badge of distinction. He is the last 
man who would be picked out in a crowd as the Chief 
of Police. He assumed cornmand before the new law 
worked smoothly, when it was maligned, when politi- 
cians, who found crime profitable, attempted to make 
the new system odious. He turned neither to the right 
nor to the left, but discharged his duties faithfully. He 
has changed public sentiment, infused military discipline 
into the corps, so that they move to a riot in solid 
columns with the obedience and force of a brigade. 
The uniform is no longer regarded as a badge of 
servility, but as an honor and a protection. 

THE POLICE AT THEIR WORK. 

The London police dare not touch a man unless he 
has committed some offence, or the officers have a war- 
rant. Well-known thieves and burglars walk defiantly 
by the guardians of the law, and know that no man 
can lay finger upon them unless they ply their profes- 
sion. A dozen robbers and pickpockets may go into a 



I 



In New York. 181 

crowd, or into a place of amusement, and though the 
poHce know what they are there for, they cannot touch 
one of them unless they actually commit some crime. 
A mob of ten thousand may gather in St, James's Park, 
with the intent of sacking Buckingham Palace, yet, 
until they begin to tear down the fence, or do some 
act of violence, the police or troops have no power to 
arrest or disperse them. A royal proclamation might 
do it. So sacred is personal liberty in Great Britain. 
But our police can arrest on suspicion or at pleasure. 
They scatter a mob, and bid loiterers pass on or go to 
the station-house. If a notorious fellow enters a place 
of public resort, though he has purchased his ticket, 
yet he will be ordered to leave at once or be locked up. 
At a great public gathering in the night, say Fourth of 
July, when tens of thousands of all characters and hues 
gather together, among whom are the most desperate 
men and women in the w'orld, the crowd will be orderly 
as a church, and go home quietly as an audience from 
the Academy of Music. In the draft riots of July, the 
police marched in solid column against the rioters, and 
obeyed orders as promptly as an army. They broke 
the prestige of the mob with their locusts, and scattered 
the miscreants before the military arrived. The Prince 
of Wales and Duke of Newcastle expressed astonish- 
ment at the ease with which the police controlled the 
masses. At the reception of the Prince and Princess 
of Wales in London, the mob overpowered the police, 
seven persons were killed, and hundreds of men, wo- 
men, and children crushed. At the exhibition of the 
Great Eastern in England, pickpockets swarmed by 
hundreds, and thousands of pounds were stolen. On 



182 Sunshine and Shadow 

the exhibition of the Great Eastern in New York, she 
was visited by thousands of people, only six policemen 
were on duty, and not a dollar was lost. 

The Metropolitan Police is not large. Besides the 
officers, the force numbers two thousand one hundred 
men. In uniform and soldierly bearing ; neatness of 
dress, manliness, and physical vigor ; intelligence and 
courteousness ; promptness and energy in the discharge 
of duty, often unpleasant and perilous, the police of no 
city in the world can excel the Metropolitan Police of 
New York. 

THE HARBOR PRECINCT. * 

The police on the water have a precinct by them- 
selves. It renders a most valuable service. Its head- 
quarters are on a steamboat. This boat can be signalled 
at any moment. It keeps the peace of the harbor, 
quells mutiny, puts out fires, tows vessels on fire away 
from other vessels, and rescues vessels in peril. It 
arrests dock-robbers, and makes river-thieving danger- 
ous business. 

HEADQUARTERS. 

For many years the headquarters were in the base- 
ment of the Almshouse in the Park. Mr. Matsell had 
one room — damp, dark, and small — and one clerk, 
and these were enoui»:h for the service. A laro-e mar- 
ble building on Mulberry Street, running through to 
Mott, five stories high, is the present headquarters. It 
was built expressly for the police. It contains every 
convenience that taste, talent, and liberality can sug- 
gest, and is the most perfect building of the kind in 
the world. System, order, quiet prevail, and every- 
thing moves like a well-adjusted door on oiled hinges. 



In New York. 183 

Every man has his place, and must be found in it. 
Thousands daily visit the rooms — officers from a cir- 
cuit of thirty miles to make reports and take orders ; 
victims to make complaints; men and women, robbed 
and wronged, to get redress ; officers of justice from 
every city in the Union ; detectives from the Old 
"World in search of rascals ; policemen on trial, with 
witnesses and friends ; reporters, newspaper men, and 
citizens generally. But all is quiet. Loud talking and 
profanity are prohibited. Smoking and the use of to- 
bacco are not allowed. You get a civil answer to a 
question, and the officers are courteous. 

Within reach of the chief's chair is a telegraph, 
which communicates with every room in the building, 
with every station-house in the city, with every office 
in tlie district, Brooklyn, Staten Island, and Westchester 
County. Before the robber has done up his bundle, 
the finger of the chief orders an up-town policeman to 
make the arrest. On the breaking out of a riot, men 
are instantaneously marched from every station-house 
to the gathering. Lost children are found at head- 
quarters. 'Within an hour after a new counterfeit ap- 
pears every storekeeper in the city is notified by the 
police. 

Nearly a quarter of a century has passed since the 
old watch system was broken up, and the old Leather- 
heads disappeared forever. The present system is the 
growth of years. The severe but necessary discipline 
to which the present force is subjected makes it the 
security and pride of our people. New York is the 
home of the most daring and desperate criminals, 
who come from all parts of the world. Over two 



184 Sunshine and Shadow 

thousand men, efficient, brave, and well disciplined, 
who often face danger and death, guard our homes, 
make life safe, and property secure. Desperate men 
know with what vigilance New York is guarded. 
Should they overpower the police, they know that 
the electric wires, numerous as the veins in one's body, 
would communicate with headquarters, and a few 
sharp strokes on the bell of the City Hall would bring 
ten thousand bayonets, if needed, to sustain the civil 
force. To the untold blessings of a strong govern- 
ment New York owes much for her tranquillity and 
greatness. 

THE FULL POLICE FORCE. 

The official statement of the entire Metropolitan 
Police force is two thousand five hundred and sixty-six. 
Of this number, two thousand one hundred and two 
are employed in New York. This force is divided 
into one superintendent, four inspectors, eighteen 
surgeons, forty-five captains, one hundred and seventy- 
seven sergeants, ninety-one roundsmen, two hundred 
and eighty-nine patrolmen on special duty, one thou- 
sand eight hundred and forty-eight patrolmen on 
general duty, ninety-three doormen. Of this force, 
ail but four hundred and sixty are in the city of 
New York. The incidental duties of the police for 
a single quarter are thus summed up : Lost children 
delivered to parents, two thousand nine hundred and 
ninety-six ; abandoned infants delivered to Alms- 
house, thirty-six ; animals found, six hundred and 
eleven ; accidents reported, one thousand two hundred 
and seventy-two ; buildings found open and secured, 
one thousand three hundred and eighty-six ; fires at- 



In New York. 185 

tended, two hundred and sixty-two ; reported viola- 
tions of law, sixteen thousand five hundred and eight ; 
destitute persons lodged, twenty-five thousand eight 
hundred and nineteen ; money received from lodgers 
when they were able to take care of themselves, one 
hundred and seventeen thousand two hundred and 
fifty-five dollars ; stolen and lost property in charge of 
the property clerk, three thousand five hundred and 
forty lots. 



186 Sunshine and Shadow 



XIX. 

WILLIAM B. ASTOR. 

▲ MAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL. — HIS OFFICE. — MR. ASTOR AS A CITIZEN. — 
MR. ASTOR's SONS. JOHN JACOB ASTOR, JR. 

A MAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL. 

Mr. Astor is the son of John Jacob Astor. To him 
the fame and fortune of his father have been intrusted. 
He is about seventy years of age. He is a tall, heavy- 
built man, with a decided German look, a countenance 
blank, eyes small and contracted, a look sluggish and 
unimpassioned, unimpressible in his feelings, taciturn 
and unsocial. He has his father's ability for acquiring 
property. His habits are very simple, and mode of 
life uniform. He rises early, and does his private 
correspondence before breakfast, which meal he takes 
at nine o'clock. He lives in Lafayette Place, and 
usually walks down to his office in the morning. There 
is nothing about him to attract attention. He would 
not be distinguished from the crowd anywhere. In 
church he might be taken for a college professor ; on 
'change, for a merchant who had very little interest in 
what was going on. He belongs to a race of mer- 
chants, fast dying out in the city, who attend to their 
own business. 



In New York. 187 



HIS OFFICE, 

On Prince Street, just out of Broadway, is a plain, 
one-story building, looking not unlike a country bank. 
The windows are guarded by heavy iron bars. Here 
Mr. Astor controls his immense estate. In 1846, Mr. 
Astor was reputed to be worth five millions. His uncle 
Henry, a celebrated butcher in the Bowery, left him 
his accumulated wealth, reaching half a million. By 
fortunate investments, and donations from his flither, 
he is now supposed to be worth forty millions. His 
property is mostly in real estate, and in valuable leases 
of property belonging to Trinity Church. At ten 
o'clock every morning Mr. Astor enters his office. It 
consists of two rooms. The first is occupied by his 
clerks. His sons have a desk on either side of the 
room. In the rear room, separated from the front by 
folding doors, is Mr. Astor's office. It is plainly and 
scantily furnished, but it is open to everybody. On 
entering the outer office, Mr. Astor is plainly in sight, 
sitting at his table. His room is guarded by no porter ; 
no introduction is necessary. You see before you a 
heavj^-moulded, large man, who puts on no airs, asks no 
questions, says nothing till your business is announced. 
He hears what you have to say, and in the fewest pos- 
sible words gives you an answer. To annoy him with 
a long talk is simply impossible. He is curt and 
decided, and is as chary of his words as he is of his dol- 
lars. He knows every inch of real estate that stands 
in his name, every bond, contract, and lease. He 
knows what is due when leases expire, and attends 
personally to all this matter. No tenant can expend a 



188 Sunshine and Shadow 

dollar, or put in a pane of glass, without his personal 
inspection. His father sold him the Astor House for 
the sum of one dollar. The lessees are not allowed to 
spend one cent on that building without his supervision 
and consent, unless they pay for it themselves. In the 
upper part of New York hundreds of lots can be seen 
enclosed by dilapidated fences, disfigured by rocks and 
waste material, or occupied as gardens ; mostly corner 
lots These are eligibly located, many of them sur- 
rounded by a fashionable population. They give an 
untidy and bankrupt appearance to the upper part of 
the city. Mr. Astor owns most of these corner lots. He 
will sell the centre lots, but keeps the corners for a 
rise. He will neither sell nor improve them. Fre- 
quently men call, and announce some great improve- 
ment in the vicinity of his up-town property. They 
are about to build a church, or put up some pubhc 
institution, and ask of him a subscription. He usually 
gives nothincr. He knows that no parties can improve 
the centre of the block without benefiting the corners. 
He knows that the improvements will go on whether 
he gives or not. He leaves the giving to others, while 
he enjoys the profit. 

MR. ASTOR AS A CITIZEN. 

He is very unlike his father. He has none of the 
genial, hearty, and contagious vivacity that marked 
the elder Mr. Astor. He has none of that love of trade 
and enterprise of his father. He sits in his oface, which 
has the general air of a house of detention, day after 
day. His business is with investments. He makes 
them wisely, and quietly waits for the advance. He is 



In New York. 189 

sombre and solitary, dwells alone, and mixes little with 
general society. He is liberal on special occasions; 
gives little to general charity, abhors beggars, and is a 
man with whom solicitors do not care to waste words. 
Politicians cannot bleed him. He has answered his 
father's wishes by additions to the Astor Library, and 
has never bound himself up with the educational or 
benevolent enterprises of the day. Business hours 
over, he locks his desk, and turns from his office into 
Broadway. He seldom rides. At a given hour, each 
afternoon, he can be seen joining the up-town throng 
on the pavement, walking towards his home. 

He lives in princely style in a mansion built for him 
by his father, adjoining the Astor Library. He is very 
frugal in his living, rarely touching a glass of wine. 
During the season he gives dinners frequently to his 
friends, than which none are more elegant in the city. 
His gold plate, servants in livery, the delicacies of the 
season, make the Astor dinners a speciality in New 
York, Mrs. Astor was the daui2:hter of General Arm- 
strong, Mr. Madison's Secretary of War. She is one of 
the most accomplished and benevolent ladies in the 
city. 

MR. ASTOR's sons, 

John Jacob, and William B., Jr., do business with their 
lather. The eldest, John Jacob, is a large-framed, heavy- 
moulded man, resembling his father. William B. is a 
small, slim man, with raven black hair, resembling his 
mother. They are rich in inherited wealth, and are 
rich in wealth that they have accumulated. They live 
in fashionable style on Fifth Avenue. They are first- 
class business men. No banker and no clerk in New 



190 Sunshine and Shadow 

York goes more regularly and systematically to busi- 
ness than do these young men. They unite the genial 
vivacity of their grandfather and the sturdy adherence 
to business of their father. Every day they can be 
seen walking down to their business in Wall Street, to 
which they attend as devotedly as if their support and 
fortune depended upon it. They are seldom separate, 
and at the close of business they walk up together with 
the crowd from Wall Street. Should their fither die 
to-day, they could take his immense business, with 
which they are well acquainted, and carry it on in 
the same manner in which it has been conducted 
since the death of their grandfather. They are very 
liberal, and have made great contributions to the Union 
cause during our civil war. John Jacob entered per- 
sonally into the conflict, became a member of the staff 
of the commanding general, and was in many deadly 
conflicts. 

JOHN JACOB ASTOR, 

The senior brother of William B. Astor, inherited the 
name of his father. He was an imbecile from his 
birth. He was tenderly cared for while his father 
lived. A fine mansion — including an entire block on 
Fourteenth Street, with stables, grounds, and fine 
gardens, coaches, horses, and servants — was provided 
for his comfort. Whoever else was cared for, this son 
must not be neglected. The whole property of Mr. 
Astor was charged with this trust. A physician was 
chosen as his guardian. He lived in the mansion, 
enjoyed its elegant appointments, had his table fur- 
nished, and servants and carriages provided. Under 
his eye Mr. Astor was quiet and docile as a child. But 



I 



In New York. 191 

he could not be left. In the contract made, the 
guardian had permission to go to church without his 
charge. But to all other places — concerts, lectures, 
theatres, social visits, parties, up town, down town, 
travelling, or at home — the two were together. Walk- 
ing a little behind the physician, Mr. Astor could be 
seen daily in the streets of New York. If disposed to be 
turbulent, or noisy, or rude, all the physician had to do 
was to lift his finger, and say, " Astor, be a man ! " 
and he would subside at once. He was not obliged to 
sleep with Mr. Astor at night, but the door of his room, 
which connected, was always kept open. Besides the 
house and perquisites, the physician was paid a salary 
of five thousand dollars a year. 

On the death of his father, William B. Astor thought 
the compensation too much. He thought the comfort 
of his brother could be secured without such an outlay. 
He notified the doctor, who had had his brother in 
charge for so many years, that he should reduce his 
salary. The physician resigned, and a new guardian 
was placed over the brother. The removal of his old 
friend transformed him. He became wild and furious. 
Like the man among the tombs, no one could tame 
him. He smashed the windows, broke up the furni- 
ture, destroj'cd everything he could lay his hands on. 
He was a man of immense size and great natural 
strength ; and now that he was maddened, he was as 
furious as a wild beast. In terror the familj^ fled to the 
old guardian for relief He refused to return. Out of 
love for John Jacob Astor, he had for years denied 
himself every comfort, and been a slave to his son. 
He had been dismissed from mercenary motives, and 



192 



Sunshine and Shadow 



he chose not to renew the engagement. The mad- 
dened man could not be controlled. In the lull of his 
paroxysms he moaned for his old friend. At length the 
doctor relented. He would go back for a salary of ten 
thousand dollars, secured to him for a term of years. 
The bargain was closed. The old eye and the familiar 
voice subdued the patient, and there was no outbreak 
afterwards. 



In New York. 193 



XX. 

CORNELIUS VANDERBILT. 

EARLY LIFE. — MR. VANDERBILT IN HIS OFFICE. PERSONAL. — AS A RAIL- 
ROAD MAN. — MR. VANDERBILT ON THE OCEAN. — GREAT GIFT TO TUB 
NATION. 

This gentleman, known as Commodore Vanderbilt, 
is one of the self-made millionnaires of the city. He 
began life a penniless boy. He took to the water 
early. He began life on his own accomit by rowing a 
boat from Staten Island to this city. He took command 
of a North River steamboat when quite young, and was 
distinguished at the start for his resolute, indomitable, 
and daring will. He began his moneyed success by 
chartering steamboats, and running opposition to all 
the old lines, up the North River, up the East River, 
up the Connecticut River, everywhere. Making a little 
money, he invested it in stocks which were available in 
cash, and always ready for a bargain. Honorable in 
trade, prompt, firm, and reliable, he was decided in his 
business, and could drive as hard a bargain as any mar^ 
in the city. His custom has been to conduct his busi- 
ness on the cash principle, and never allows a Saturday 
night to close without every man in his employ getting 
his money. If anybody was about to fail, wanted 
money, had a bargain to offer, he knew where to call. 
13 



194 Sunshine and Siiadoav 

Nothing came amiss. A load of lumber, coal, or cord- 
age ; a cargo of a ship, or a stock of goods in a factory ; 
glassware, merchandise, or clothing ; — the Commodore 
was sure to find a use for them. 

MR. VANDERBILT IN HIS OFFICE. 

From nine to eleven the Commodore is in his 
up-town office ; at one, in his down-town office. Be- 
tween these hours he visits the Harlem and Hudson 
River stations. He is now nearly eighty years of 
age. He is erect as a warrior. He is tall, very 
slim, genteel in his make up, with a fine p]'esence, 
hair white as the driven snow, and comes up to 
one's idea of a fine merchant of the olden time. He 
is one of the shrewdest merchants, prompt and de- 
cided. In one of the down-town mansions, where the 
aristocracy used to reside, he has his place of business. 
He drives down through Broadway in his buggy drawn 
by his fixvorite horse, celebrated for his white feet, one 
of the fleetest in the city, which no money can buy. 
His offi.ce consists of a single room, quite large, well 
furnished, and adorned with pictures of favorite steam- 
boats, ferry-boats, and ocean steamers. The entrance 
to the office is through a narrow hall-way, which is 
made an outer room for his confidential clerk. He sees 
personally all who call, rising to greet the comer, and 
seldom sits till the business is discharged and the 
visitor gone. But for this he would be overrun and 
bored to death. His lono- connection with steamboats 
.and shipping brings to him men from all parts of the 
w^orld who have patents, inventions, and improvements, 
.and who wish his indorsement. If a man has anything 



In New York. 195 

to sell, he settles the contract in a very few words. The 
visitor addresses the Commodore, and says, " I have a 
stock of goods for sale : what will you give ? " A half 
dozen sharp inquiries are made, and a price named. 
The seller demurs, announcing that such a price would 
ruin him. " I don't want your goods. AVhat did you 
come here for if you did not want to sell ? If you can 
get more for your goods, go and get it." Not a mo- 
ment of time will be wasted, not a cent more be of- 
fered ; and if the man leaves with the hope of getting a 
better price, and returns to take the first offer, he will 
not, probabl}^, sell the goods at all. 

PERSONAL. 

Mr. Vanderbilt lives in a down-town location. It 
was once very fashionable. It is near the New York 
University; a very large but very plain brick mansion ; 
a good type of the dwellings of the millionnaires of the 
old school, before the jaunty freestone houses, with their 
florid painting and gaudy trimmings, came into vogue. 
Everything about it is solid, substantial, comfortable. 
But there is no North River steamboat about the fittino; 
up. His stables are in his yard. They are unrivalled for 
convenience and comfort. He has also a small trotting 
course, around which he drives in rainy weather, when 
his horses are exercised and their speed exhibited. He 
rises early, takes a plain breakfast, and then spends an 
hour in his stables, after which he goes to his office. 
AYhat he calls business consists in riding. Every after- 
noon he can be seen at Central Park, and on the road 
where fast nags are put to their mettle. His great 
passion is for horse-flesh. He handles his own team, 



196 Sunshine and Shadow 

and is probably the best driver, except Bonner, in the 
state. He had the fastest team in the state till Bon- 
ner's Flatbiish Maid and her companion distanced all 
competitors. The Commodore has swept the horizon 
since then for a fast team. He keeps a standing offer 
of ten thousand dollars for one of the required speed. 
He would give twenty thousand dollars to own the 
leading team of the city. He is a most daring driver; 
and to see him on the road with his %ing steeds, pass- 
ing everything, distancing everything, cool, erect, and 
skilful, one would hardly suppose he was nearly eighty 
years of age. Not long since he invited a friend to 
ride with him. He proposed to cross Harlem Railroad. 
The express train was in sight. In spite of remon- 
strance, he gave the well-known word, and his steeds 
started with the fleetness of deers. The w^ieels had 
scarcely left the track when whiz went the locomotive 
by as on the wings of the wind, lifting the hats of 
Vanderbilt and his friend by the current wdiicli it 
created. " There is not another man in New York that 
could do that ! " the Commodore said. " And you will 
never do it again with me in your wagon ! " the friend 
replied. 

AS A RAILROAD MAN. 

Turning from steamboats, Mr. Vanderbilt long ago 
became interested in railroads. So great has been his 
success, that he can control the stock market when he 
will. An attempt was made some time since to break 
him down by cornering the stock. He wanted to con- 
solidate the Harlem Railroad with the Hudson. Enough 
of the Legislature was supposed to have been secured 
to carry the measure. The parties who had agreed to 



In New York. 197 

pass the bill intended to play foul. Besides this, they 
thought they would indulge in a little railroad specula- 
tion. Thev sold Harlem, to be delivered at a future 
day, right and left. These men let their friends into 
the secret, and allowed them to speculate. Clear on to 
Chicago there was hardly a railroad man who was not 
selling Harlem short. The expected consolidation ran 
the stock up. The failure of the project would, of 
course, run it down. A few days before the vote was 
taken, some friends called upon Commodore Vanderbilt, 
and gave him proof that a conspiracy existed to ruin 
him, if possible, in this matter of consolidation. He took 
all the funds he could command, and, with the aid of 
his friends, bought all the Harlem stock that could be 
found, and locked it up in his safe. True to the report, 
the bill was rejected. The men who had pledged 
themselves for it openly and unblushingly voted 
against it. They waited anxiously for the next morn- 
ing, when they expected their fortune would be made 
by the fall of Harlem. But it did not fall. To the 
surprise of everybody, the first day it remained sta- 
tionary. Then it began to rise steadily, to the conster- 
nation and terror of speculators. There was no stock 
to be had at any price. Men were ruined on the right 
hand and on the left. Fortunes were swept away, and 
the cries of the wounded were heard all up and down 
the Central Road. An eminent railroad man near 
Albany, worth quite a pretty fortune, who confidently 
expected to make fifty thousand dollars by the opera- 
tion, became penniless. One of the sharpest and most 
successful operators in New York lost over two hun- 
dred thousand dollars, which he refused to pay, on the 



198 Sunshine and Shadow 

ground of conspiracy. His name was immediately 
stricken from the Stock Board, which brought him to 
his senses. He subsequently settled. Thousands were 
ruined. But Vanderbilt made money enough out of 
this attempt to ruin him, to pay for all the stock he 
owned in the Harlem Road. 

When he first got possession of the Harlem, there 
was a strong feeling of hostility against him manifested 
by the Hudson River Road. The Commodore was 
snubbed by the aristocracy that controlled the Hudson. 
It was a great political machine, ruled by a ring. He 
told the managers to be civil, or he would make them 
trouble. The manao-ers lauo-hed at the idea. The first 
thing they knew, at one of their annual meetings, was, 
that Samuel Sloane, the old president, was tiu'ned out, 
and Tobin, Vanderbilt's right hand man, put in his 
place. From that hour to this Vanderbilt has con- 
trolled both the Hudson and Harlem Roads. Tobin 
soon became unmindful of the power that made him. 
He refused to obey the dictation of his chief, and, con- 
fident of his position, set up for himself He was soon 
removed, and Mr. Vanderbilt's son, William H., was 
put in his place. 

MR. VANDERBILT ON THE OCEAN. 

Not satisfied with his achievements on the land and 
on the rivers, Mr. Vanderbilt resolved to try the ocean. 
He built a fine steamer at his own cost, and equipped 
her completely. The Collins line was then in its glory. 
Mr. Collins, with his fine fleet of steamers and his sub- 
sidy from the government, was greatly elated and very 
imperious. It was quite difficult to approach him. 



In New York. 199 

Any day, on the arrival of a steamer, he could be seen 
pacing the dock, the crowd falling back, and making 
space for the tread of the important personage. One 
of his ships was lost. Vanderbilt applied to Collins to 
allow his steamer to take the place vacant on the line 
for a time. Pie promised to make no claim for the 
subsidy, and to take off his ship as soon as Collins built 
one to take her place. Collins refused to do this. He 
was afraid if Vanderbilt got his foot into this ocean 
business, he would get in his whole body. If Vander- 
bilt could run an ocean steamship without subsidy, 
government would require Collins to do it. He saw 
only mischief any way. He not only refused, but refused 
very curtly. In the sharp Doric way that Vanderbilt 
has of speaking when he is mad, he told Collins that he 
would run his line off of the ocean if it took all of his 
own fortune and the years of his life. He commenced 
his opposition in a manner that made it irresistible, 
and a work of short duration. He offered the govern- 
ment to carry the mails for a terra of years without a 
dollar's cost to the nation. He offered to bind himself 
under the heaviest bonds the government could exact 
to perform this service for a term of years more 
promptly and faithfully than it had ever been done 
before. His well-known business tact, energy, and 
wealth were conceded. His ability to do what he said 
no one could deny. His proposition was not only laid 
before the members of Congress, but pressed home by 
a hundred agencies that he employed. The subsidy 
was withdrawn ; Collins became bankrupt ; his splendid 
fleet of steamers, the finest the world had ever seen, 
were moored at the wharves, where they lie rotting. 



200 Sunshine and Shadow 

Had Collins conceded to Vanderbilt's wishes, or divided 
with him the business on the ocean, the Collins line 
would not only have been a fact to-day, but would 
have been as prosperous as the Cunard line. 

GREAT GIFT TO THE NATION. 

When the rebellion broke out, the navy was in a 
feeble condition. Every ship in the South was pressed 
into the rebel service. The men-of-war at Norfolk 
were burned. At Annapolis they were mutilated and 
made unfit for service. The ethcient portion of the 
navy was cruising in foreign seas beyond recall. The 
need of ships-of-war and gunboats was painfully ap- 
parent. The steamship Vanderbllt was the finest and 
fleetest vessel that floated In our waters. Her owner 
fitted her up as a man-of-war at his own expense, and 
fully equipped her. He then offered her for sale to the 
government at a reasonable price, Mr, Vanderbllt 
found that there were certain men standino; between 
the government and the purchase, who insisted on a 
profit on every vessel that the government bought. 
He refused to pa}"" the black-mail that was exacted of 
him if his vessel became the property of the nation. 
He was told that unless he acceded to these demands, 
he could not sell his ship. Detesting the conduct of 
the men who, pretending to be patriots, were making 
money out of the necessities of the nation, he proceeded 
at once to Washington, and made a donation of the 
Vanderbllt, with all her equipments, a free gift to the 
nation. 

There are few men who attend more closely to busi- 
ness than Mr, Vanderbllt. His property is estimated 



In New York. 201 

at thirty millions. He is very liberal where he takes an 
interest, but very fitful in his charities. I have seen 
him not only subscribe liberally to a cause presented to 
'him, but compel all his friends present to make a 
liberal donation. He is prompt, sharp, and decisive in 
his manner of doing business. Pie is punctual to his 
engagements to a minute. He is clear in his intellect, 
and buys and sells on the spot. He is very intelligent, 
well informed, and in commercial and national affliirs 
has no rival in shrewdness and good judgment. He is 
affable, puts on no airs, and is pleasant and genial as a 
companion. Time is doing its work on his iron frame. 
He feels the decrepitude of age, and is heeding its ad- 
monitions. He enters into no new speculations, for he 
wishes to leave no unfinished business to his children. 
His immense estate is already settled. He has divided 
his property among his children, and allotted to his 
heirs what each is to receive. Financially he is ready 
for his last great change. 



202 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXI. 

THE FIVE POINTS. 

A SCENE AT FIVE POINTS. LADIES' FIVE POINTS MISSION. ORIGIN OF 

THE WORK. THE FIELD SELECTED. THE NATIONALITY OF THE LOWLY. 

THE MISSION BEGUN. A WALK ARODND FIVE POINTS. THE MISSION 

OF THE BEAUTIFUL. HOW THE WOKK IS SUPPORTED. — SUCCESS OF 

THE MISSION WORK. 

A SCENE AT FIVE POINTS. 

As the superintendent of our mission establishment 
was looking out of his door, he saw a man running up 
the street, apparently in a state of wild excitement. 
His coat was off, he had no hat on, and his feet were 
bare. The superintendent approached him, and led 
him into his room. He soon sank into unconscious 
slumber. He remained in this condition an hour. The 
prayer-bell sounded, and he started in alarm, and cried 
out, " What's that ? " He was told it was the prayer- 
bell. " Prayer-bell ! " exclaimed the man. " Prayer- 
bell ! Do you have prayers in this dreadful locality ?" 
" We have prayers," said the superintendent, and in- 
vited the man to go in. He went in, and his sobs and 
cries so interrupted the service, that it was with diffi- 
culty that the parties proceeded. He soon learned 
where he was : he then made a clean breast of himself 



In New York. 203 

He was a AVestern merchant; be had a load of butter 
on the way to Boston ; he was a man of good standing 
at home ; a class leader in the Methodist church. Ilav- 
ino; leisure, he took a stroll around New York to see 
the sights. A respectably-dressed and good-looking 
woman asked him to treat her. As he wanted to get 
material for a letter that he was to send home, he 
thought that a compliance with her request would 
enable him to see a side of life that he could not other- 
wise see, so he went in to treat. Having drank, she 
insisted upon treating him. A teetotaler at home, he 
complied with her invitation, and drank. From that 
time till he was awakened by the prayer-bell he had 
no distinct consciousness. He had an indistinct recol- 
lection of being led down some dark, damp steps. He 
had over one thousand dollars in money with him, and 
he recollected taking that out. Money, watch, hat, 
coat, — all were gone. " Can't I get my money and 
my coat?" he asked. " Yes," said the superintendent, 
' " I can get them for you, but you must go before a 
magistrate. Your name, place of business, and all about 
you, must come out and be blazed in the papers." 
" Then let it all go," he said ; " I had rather lose my 
money' than my good name." Money was furnished 
him ; coat, hat, and shoes were supplied, all of which 
he promptly paid for when his butter reached Boston. 
His search for things to put into a letter was so amply 
rewarded, that he will not probably try it again. New 
York is said to be a very wicked place, full of traps and 
gins, pitfalls and snares ; but gentlemen from the 
country are the persons who generally flill into them. 



204 Sunshine and Shadow 



ladies' five points mission. ORIGIN OF THE WORK. 

Seventeen years ago a few ladies assembled in a 
brown-stone mansion up town, to consult on the best 
methods of reaching the destitution of the city, and 
doing missionary \vork. One of them suggested that 
it would be better to go where the poor and neglected 
children really were, and proposed to open a mission 
at Five Points. It was then a dangerous locality, full of 
bad men and bad women, the resort of burglars, thieves, 
and desperadoes, with dark, under-ground chambers, 
where murderers often hid, where the policeman seldom 
■went, and never unarmed. A person passing through 
that locality after dark was sure to be assaulted, beaten, 
and probably robbed. The noise of brawls nightly 
filled the air ; shouts for police and cries of murder 
brought the inmates from their beds. The proposition 
that a lady should go into such a locality to do mission 
work was received with astonishment. 

THE field selected. 

Persons who perambulate Broadway, on a pleasant 
day,wholookon the elegantly-dressed throng that crowd 
the pavement, and through the costly plate-glass at the 
rich goods displayed, would be slow to believe that within 
a stone's throw squalid want and criminal woe have their 
abode. Here lie the Fourth and Sixth Wards, so famous 
in the history of crime in New^ York. In this locality one 
walks amid drunkenness, wretchedness, and suffering, 
within sound of the rumble of Broadway, within sight of 
the merr}^, gay, and well-dressed thousands who move 
up and down this thoroughfare of the city. No pen 



In New York. 205 

can describe the homes of the lowly where the New 
York poor lodge. It is a region of wickedness, filth, 
and woe. Lodging-houses are under ground, foul and 
slimy, without ventilation, and often without windows, 
and overrun with rats and every species of vermin. 
Bunks filled with decayed rags, or canvas bags filled 
with rotten straw, make the beds. All lodgers pay as 
they enter these dark domains. The fee is from five 
to ten cents, and all are welcome. Black and white, 
young and old, men and women, drunk and sober, 
occupy the room and fill the bunks. If there are no 
beds, lodgers throw themselves on the hard, dirty floor, 
and sleep till morning. Lodging-rooms above ground 
are numerous in the narrow lanes, and in the dark and 
dangerous alleys that surround the Five Points. Booms 
are rented from two to ten dollars a month, into which 
no human being would put a dog, — attics, dark as mid- 
night at noonday, without window or door they can 
shut, without chimney or stove, and crowded with 
men, women, and little children. Children are born in 
sorrow, and raised in reeking vice and bestiality, that 
no heathen degradation can exceed. 

THE NATIONALITY OF THE LOWLY. 

Every state in the Union, and every nation almost in 
the world, have representatives in this foul and danger- 
ous locality. Its tenant and cellar population exceed 
half a million. One block contains 382 families. Per- 
sons composing these families were, 812 Irish, 218 Ger- 
mans, 186 Italians, 189 Poles, 12 French, 9 English, 7 
Portuguese, 2 Welsh, 39 Negroes, 10 Americans. Of 
religious faiths 118 represented the Protestant, 287 
were Jews, 160 Catholics; but of 614 children, only 1 



206 Sunshine and Shadow 

in 66 attended any school. Out of 916 adults, 605 
could neither read nor write. In the same block there 
were 33 undero-ound lodo-insr-houses, ten feet below the 
sidewalk, and 20 of the vilest grog-shops in the city. 
During five hours on the Sabbath, two of these grog- 
shops were visited by 1054 persons, — 450 men and 
445 women, 91 boys and 68 girls. 

THE mission begun. 

Resolved to attempt mission work in this danger- 
ous and neglected locality, the heroic women who 
founded the Five Points Mission secured a room op- 
posite the Old Brewery. This famous building stood 
in the centre of the Five Points. It was filled with 
a vile and degraded population. Over a thousand 
persons were tenants in the building. The mission- 
school opened with a group of rude, untamed chil- 
dren. They were lawless as wild Arabs. The Confer- 
ence of the Methodist Church assio;ned Rev. L. M. 
Pease to this station, and here he commenced the great 
work with which his Home has been so long; and so 
favorably connected. The ladies purchased the Old 
Brewery, had it pulled down, and on its site erected 
the elegant Mission House, which has been such a 
blessing to the lowly. Besides the school-rooms, and 
chapel for day and Sunday service, the building con- 
tains tenements for sober, industrious poor who are 
w^ell behaved, and here they find, at a low rent, 
comfort. 

For seventeen years the lady founders of this insti- 
tution have carried on their great and good work. 
They still conduct the work. From this institution 
the first company of sorrowing and neglected chil- 



In New York. 207 

dren were taken to comfortable Christian homes in 
the West. The kindred institutions of Five Points 
House of Industry, and others, were founded by men 
who were once in the employ, and received their 
lessons from, the Old Brewery Mission, The whole 
locality has been changed. Nearly twenty years of 
work, designed to rescue little suffering childhood, and 
to do good to the perishing, in the name of the Lord, 
has produced ripe, rich fruit. The Old Brewery has 
fallen, and a costly mansion, the gift of Christian 
munificence, occupies its site. The Plouse of Industry 
stands opposite. Cow Bay and Murderer's Alley, with 
rookeries and abodes of desperate people, have passed 
away. Comfortable tenements occupy their place. 
The hum of busy toil and industry takes the place of 
reeking blasphemy. Trade, with its marble, granite, 
and brown-stone palaces, is pushing its way into this 
vile locality, and is completing the reform which reli- 
gion and beneficence began. On a festive day, such as 
Thanksofivino; and Christmas, the ladies welcome their 
friends to a sight worth travelling many miles to see. 
From six hundred to a thousand children, homeless, 
houseless, and orphaned, each with a new suit or dress 
made by the lady managers and their friends, singing 
charmingly, exhibiting great proficiency in education, 
and a wonderful knowledge of the Bible, sitting down 
to a well-laid table, it is touching to see. Hotels, mar- 
ketmen, bakers, confectioners, and friends generally, 
make liberal contribution to feed the little ones. 
Loaves large enough for a fancy scull on the Hudson, 
pyramids of candies, and cakes and good things by the 
hundred weight, dolls, toys, and presents, are abundant 
so that each little one bears some gift away. 



208 Sunshine and Shadow 



A WALK around FIVE POINTS. 

A walk through the streets in the neighborhood of 
this Mission will show where the materials come from 
of which it is composed. Forty thousand vagrant 
and destitute children are in this field. Their parents 
are foreigners. They are too dirty, too ragged, and 
carry too much vermin about them, to be admitted to 
the public schools. Their homes are in the dens and 
stews of the city, where the thieves, vagabonds, gam- 
blers and murderers dwell. With the early light of 
morning they are driven from their vile homes to pick 
rags and cinders, collect bones, and steal. They fill the 
galleries of the low theatres. They are familiar with 
every form of wickedness and crime. As they grow 
up they swell the ranks of the dangerous classes. Our 
thieves, burglars, robbers, rioters, who are the most 
notorious, are young persons of foreign parentage, be- 
tween ten and seventeen years of age. The degraded 
women who tramp the streets in the viler jiarts of 
the city, who fill the low dance houses, and wait and 
tend in low drinking-saloons, graduate in this vile 
locality. Over a thousand young girls, between the 
ages of twelve and eighteen, can be found in the Water 
Street drinking-saloons. To this same character and 
doom these forty thousand children are hastening. 
All around this Mission, children can be seen who 
come up daily from the brothels and dens of infamy 
which they call their homes, where women and men, 
black and white, herd together, and where childhood is 
trained up, by daily beatings and scanty fare, to cruelty 
and blasphemy. To rescue them, this Mission Plome 



V . ■ . '.ill ■-■ f 



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,,A\ 









i! 



iifi|i 



^^' 
%> 



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STREET ti WEEPER. 



In New York. 209 

was founded. They are made clean, are clad com- 
fortably, and learn to sing the sweet songs about the 
Savior and the better land. Nearly twenty thousand, 
since the Mission was founded, have been rescued from 
these hot-beds of wickedness, and placed in good homes 
here and at the West. Many, through the kindness of 
friends, have been sent to seminaries, from which they 
have graduated with honor. Not a few are first-class 
mechanics. Some of these hopeless classes, as the 
world regards them, rescued by the Mission, are clerks 
and cashiers in banks, insurance offices, and places of 
trust. Little girls picked up from the streets, found in 
the gutter, taken from dens of infamy, brought to the 
Mission by drunken women, — many of whom never 
knew father or mother, — are now the adopted daugh- 
ters of wealthy citizens, the wives of first-class mechan- 
ics, of lawyers, and j^i'incely merchants. They owe 
their deliverance from disgrace and shame to the out- 
stretched arms of these Missions. 

THE MISSION OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 

The work of rescuing the fallen and the lost is no 
longer an experiment. The rooms in which the chil- 
dren are gathered are quite elegant. The decorations 
are the gifts of friends. If Mary breaks the alabaster 
box of precious ointment on the Savior's feet, what 
right has Judas to find fault ? It costs him nothing. 
She will be quite as ready to aid the poor as if she had 
not given this costly expression of her love. Without 
pleasant rooms, music, song, and marks of taste, the 
lower classes cannot be reached. Few arc fitted to labor 
in such mission work. Patience, a loving heart, and 

14 



210 Sunshine and Shadow 

warm sympathy for the distressed, are essential. A 
teacher neglectful of her dress, untidy in appearance, 
harsh in voice, and repulsive in manner, can do little 
good in this field. The children who compose the 
Mission come from homes of wretchedness and sufferina:. 
They know want, they know brutality, they are famil- 
iar Avith cruelty. They enter a new world when they 
enter the Mission. Kind voices welcome them ; tender 
hands remove the rags and put on comfortable clothes ; 
they are led to the table, where they take the only 
meal thev ever took without stint and without terror. 
A beautiful lady receives them at the school-room door. 
The dress and kind tone make the little wanderer think 
she is an ano;el. The child never tires looking- at her 
teacher, her ornaments, her pleasant face, and wonder- 
ing if she will ever be cross, if she will ever strike her, 
or turn her out of doors. The piano is sounded, and 
the child is startled as the full tide of song rolls through 
the room. She has taken her first upward step in life. 
Could you hear that swelling chorus, so full, so accurate, 
so joyous, and 3'our eyes were shut, you would imagine 
that you were in a cathedral, hearing a choir trained by 
a master's hand, rather than a few hundreds of vagrant 
children taken from the purlieus of New York. 

To-morrow this little rescued one will sing her first 
song to the Savior. She will try to be like her teacher, 
and w^ill make an effort at cleanliness. Then she will 
fix her hair with her fingers, get bits of faded ribbon 
or colored tissue j)aper for a rosette, fastened in its 
place by a pin ornamented with a glass bead. Lord 
Shaftesbury helped the working-men of England to rise 
by encouraging a love for flowers, making what were 



In New York. 211 

called window-gardens, and growing brilliant flowers 
in the windows of the London poor. The labors of a 
quarter of a century have proved that next to food and 
clothinij; the Mission of the Beautiful is the most reform- 
ing of all the agencies now employed in London. The 
lady who founded Five Points Mission carried out the 
same idea. She opened her school in this degraded 
locality with the same dress and ornaments that she 
wore at church or when she called upon a friend. She 
was received as a visitant from another sphere. Her 
influence was at once established, and for seventeen 
years it has remained undiminished. The miserable 
homes she visited to bless knew that she could not 
seek the society of Five Points for her own pleasure. 
Degraded women heard with wonder the story of the 
Cross from her lips. They believed her when she said 
she came to them for His sake who left heaven to die 
for men, and when on earth had not where to lay 
His head. 

HOW THE WORK IS SUPrORTED. 

Over half a million of property has been consecrated 
to this great work among the neglected, the abandoned, 
and the lowly. The whole of it has been a voluntary 
ofterin"' to Christ from the benevolent. This Mission 
has no funds, but relies upon the voluntary donations 
of food, clothing, and money which are sent in from 
every portion of the land. The institution is constant- 
ly increasing in efficiency, and enlarging its work. 1 et 
the donations keep pace with its extent. The doors 
are open to all comers, day and night. Railroads and 
expressmen bring donations free of charge. The benef- 
icence of our land, in the city and in the country, has 



212 Sunshine and Shadow 

a fitting memorial in this dark and terrible locality of 
the metropolis. 

SUCCESS OF THE MISSION WORK. 

The leading soprano of one of our largest and most 
popular churches, who was recently married to the son 
of a wealthy merchant in New York, was brought to 
the door of one of the Five Points Mission Houses by 
a drunken woman, who left her young charge and 
departed. The little stranger was taken in. She has 
never known father nor mother : the child of neij-lect 
and suffering she evidently was. Scantily clothed with 
ragged garments, hungry and sorrowful, she found in 
the Mission the first sympathy she had ever known. 
She proved to be a bright and cheerful child, and apt 
to learn. She developed early a taste for music. Kind 
friends furnished means to cultivate her talent. She 
has never despised her adopted home, or been ashamed 
of the friends Avho rescued her. Had she been born in 
Fifth Avenue, among the upper ten, her prospects in 
life could hardly have been fairer. 

A REMARKABLE JIEETING. 

On Thanksgiving Day, four young men and their 
wives met together for a social dinner. One of them 
was cashier of a leading New York bank, one of them 
was book-keeper of a large insurance office, another 
was confidential clerk in a leading mercantile house, 
the fourth was a rising lawyer. The wives of all 
were intelligent and accomplished, and moved in good 
society. The dinner was given at the house of one of 
the party. It was a genteel residence, handsomely 



]. 



In New York. 213 

furnished. The hand of taste and hberality adorned 
the dweUing and presided over the table. Those four 
young women were taken out of the slums of New 
York, when they were little children, by Christian wo- 
men. They were removed from the reeking atmos- 
phere of vice and blasphemy, and brought under the 
genial influences of religion. They were turned from 
the black pathway that thousands tread to the narrow 
way of intelligence and purity. The young men were 
born in the dark chambers of lower New York, where 
the depraved herd by hundreds. They started life 
with a traininsc that would have fitted them to swell 
the crowded ranks of the desperate classes, under 
which they would perhaps have ended their days in 
the prison or on the gallows. But a kind Providence 
brought them within the reach of these Mission Homes, 
and they were saved — saved to themselves, saved to 
society, saved to their Savior; for all of them are 
devout members of the church of God, and earnest 
laborers in the mission work of the city. 



216 Sunshine and Shadow 

that presents such a view of the depravity and degra- 
dation of New York as the gallery of a Bowery theatre. 

LAGER BEER GARDENS. 

These immense establishments, patronized by the 
Germans, are located in the Bowery. They will hold 
from a thousand to fifteen hundred persons. The 
Atlantic Gardens will seat comfortably, up stairs and 
down, one, thousand. All day on Sunday they are 
filled. People are coming and going all the while. 
The rooms are very neat, and even tastefully fitted up, 
as all German places of amusement are. The vilest of 
them have a neatness and an attractiveness not found 
among any other nation. The music is first class. A 
piano, harp, violin, drums, and brass instruments, are 
played by skilful performers. The Germans visit these 
gardens to spend the day. They are eminently social. 
They come, husband and wife, with all the children, 
brothers and sisters, cousins and neighbors ; nor are the 
old folks omitted. The family bring with them a 
basket of provisions, as if they were on a picnic. Com- 
fortable rooms are provided for their entertainment. 
They gather as a family around a table. They ex- 
change social greetings, and enjoy to their bent the 
customs of their fatherland. They play dominoes, 
cards, dice ; they sing, they shout, they dance ; in some 
places billiards and bowling are added, with rifle shoot- 
ing. The room and entertainment are free to all. A 
welcome is extended to every comer. The long bar, 
immense in extent, tells the story. Here the landlord, 
his wife, and may be his daughters, with numerous 
waiters, furnish the lager beer which sustains the 



In New York. 217 

establishment. The quantity sold in a clay is enormous, 
A four-horse team from the brewery, drawing the 
favorite beverage, finds it difficult to keep up the sup- 
ply. A large portion of the visitors are young lads 
and girls. Those who serve out the beer are girls 
from twelve to sixteen years old, dressed in tawdry 
array, wdth short dresses, red-topped boots with bells 
attached ; they are frowzy, have an nnwholesome look, 
with lines of lasciviousness furrowed on their young 
faces. So immensely profitable is the sale of lager 
beer in these gardens, that the proprietors are willing 
to pay at any time five hundred dollars to any large 
association who will spend the day on their premises. 

A WALK UP THE AVENUE. 

Leaving the City Hall about six o'clock on Sunday 
night, and walking through Chatham Square to the 
Bowery, one Avould not believe that New York had 
any claim to be a Christian city, or that the Sabbath 
had any friends. The shops are open, and trade is 
brisk. Abandoned females go in swarms, and crowd 
the sidewalk. Their dress, manner, and language indi- 
cate that dej^ravity can go no lower. Young men 
known as Irish- Americans, who wear as a badge very 
long black frock-coats, crowd the corners of the streets, 
and insult the passer by. Women from the windows 
arrest attention by loud calls to the men on the side- 
walk, and jibes, profanity, and bad words pass between 
the parties. Sunday theatres, concert-saloons, and 
places of amusement are in full blast. The Italians 
and Irish shout out their joy from the rooms they 



218 Sunshine and Shadow 

occupy. The click of the billiard ball, and the boom- 
ing of the ten-pin alley, are distinctly heard. Before 
midnight, victims watched for will be secured ; men 
heated with liquor, or drugged, will be robbed ; and 
many curious and bold explorers in this locahty will 
curse the hour in which they resolved to spend a Sun- 
day in the Bowery. 



In iS^EW York. 219 



XXIII. 

PHILIP PHILLIPS, THE CHRISTIAN 

VOCALIST. 

HIS EARLY LIFE. HE REMOVES WEST. HIS APPEARANCE, AND MANNER 

AS A SINGER. — PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND MR. PHILLIPS. 

Professional singing is quite common in this me- 
tropolis. Men and women trained to song, and gifted 
in the fine art, are many. The opera, the concert-hall, 
the system of quartet choirs, afford a fine field for 
persons of rare gifts and cultivated taste. The authors 
of church music have made a repute and a fortune. 
There is no surer road to popularity than to become 
the author of a popular tune that can be sung in church, 
in Sabbath school, and in the household. It is a rare 
thing to find a popular composer and a popular singer 
in the same person. It is still more rare to find one 
willing to devote himself wholly to sacred song for 
religious purposes; to preach, exhort, warn, and com- 
fort by songs of praise, and to use the instrument of 
music and the voice for the same purpose that the 
ministry employs its talent. In this work Mr. Phillips 
has long been engaged, and to it h;is consecrated his 
life and talents. He is a member of the Methodist 
Church. He has been appointed the musical editor of 



220 Sunshine and Shadow 

the sacred songs of that important body, and is un- 
doubtedly the most persuasive and eloquent singer of 
divine songs that the church has known since the days 
of the Wesleys. His singing has about it the silvery 
persuasiveness that marked the sermons of Summer- 
field. 

HIS EARLY LIFE. 

He was born in Chatauqua Countj^, N. Y. His father 
was an artisan, and he was trained to rugged employ- 
ment, and suffered many privations, and knew what it 
was to struggle with hardships. The death of his 
mother deprived him of a home, and he went to reside 
with his uncle. He was bound out to serve his relative 
by working on the farm till he was twenty-one years 
of age. His uncle was a hard master, but death re- 
leased Philip at an early day from his toils. His talent 
for music was early developed. He mastered the rudi- 
ments of music by his own indefatigable labor, and 
opened a school when he was but seventeen. He gave 
a concert, at which he sang, and realized the sum of 
sixty-one dollars. This encouragement induced him to 
abandon farming, and turn his attention to music. 

HE REMOVES WEST. 

He settled at Marion, Ohio, as a musical conductor. 
His peculiar gifts became manifest, and he was called 
to sing before Sunday-school concerts. Young Men's 
Christian Associations, and for religious gatherings 
generally. He is a man of warm sympathies, of ardent, 
enthusiastic piety, a firm believer that Christ claims all 
the gift he has of song, and he freely gives to charita- 
ble and religious services his time and labors. He 



In New York. 221 

found few tunes sufficiently devout and fervent to suit 
him, and he became a composer from necessity. The 
most beautiful and popular Sunday-school songs in the 
language are from his pen. His publication, the 
" Spring Blossoms," had a circulation of twenty thou- 
sand copies. He removed to Cincinnati, and there 
published his " Musical Leaves," of which forty thou- 
sand copies were sold in four months. Out of these 
books grew the " Singing Pilgrim," based on Bunyan's 
Pilgrim's Progress, which has had the astonishing sale 
of live hundred thousand copies. In the compilation 
of this remarkable book Mr. Phillips resolved to secure 
a singing book that should touch the heart, and be full 
of Christian experience and the songs of the Bible. 
He starts with Christian as he leaves the City of De- 
struction, and with song and melody attends him all 
the way till he reaches the River of Death, and is safe 
in the Celestial City. Visiting New York in relation 
to some of his musical publications, he was appointed 
musical editor to the Methodist Church. He has just 
completed the new hymn and tune book called "An 
Offering of Praise," which has been published by the 
Book Concern. It is unquestionably the best collection 
of sacred sonii-s in the lami:ua2:e. This euii-ao-ement 
led Mr. Phillips to settle permanently in New York. 
His services have been in requisition at all Christian 
gatherings. His music is adapted to the Sunday school 
and the church, to patriotic and beneficent gatherings, 
and the Young Men's Associations. He can fdl any 
house when it is announced that he will sing. 



222 Sunshine and Shadow 



HIS APPEARANCE, AND MANNER AS A SINGER. 

Mr. Phillips has a peculiar gift of song, and his whole 
make-up aids him in the work to which he has devoted 
himself He is small in stature and fragile in build. 
He has dark hair, a sharp eye, his face is pale, and his 
whole countenance bears the expression that the old 
painters liked to catch when they put on canvas the 
face of a recluse who had devoted himself to Christ and 
good works. His is a blended air of benevolence, 
consecration, and sincere piety. His heart is so evi- 
dently in his work, the Avarm-hearted Christian man, 
and not the artist, is so clearly before the audience, 
that he wins their sympathy before he sings a note. 
There is such an entire freedom from cant and affecta- 
tion, he is so hearty and whole-souled, that he puts him- 
self at once in sympathy with every one in the house. 
Children love him, and old age would take him to its 
arms. His countenance is transparent, and on it is 
written every phase of song. Love, hope, faith, joy, 
fear, sympathy, sorrow, affliction, trouble and triumph, 
are read on his face. His voice is clear and musical. 
It sweeps from the lowest bass to the highest register. 
In a tender, pathetic song, its soft, low, and sweet tones, 
which can scarcely be heard, captivate ; then it sweeps 
along till it rattles like musketry, and breaks on the 
ear like the discharge of cannon. It is full of those 
plaintive minor tones that ravish and linger, and that 
you never hear so much but that you wish to hear 
more. Other men have voices as sonorous and clear; 
others have faces as expressive, hearts as full of love 
to the Savior, have consecrated themselves as entirely 



In New York. ' 223 

to the service of religion ; but men are few who com- 
bine all these great gifts and rare attainments. 

Whether he sings in the Academy of Music, the 
Halls of Congress at Washington, or in our largest 
churches, in any section of the country, his audience 
is limited only by the capacity of the house. At the 
appointed time he seats himself at his instrument, 
usually an American organ, and immediately addresses 
liiniself to the work before him. Much of the music 
is solos, and he accompanies himself on the organ. 
Most of the music too, is of his own composition, very 
peculiar, adapted to his voice and manner, and yet very 
popular through the land. He is master of his audi- 
ence ; he teaches, preaches, exhorts, warns, persuades, 
but it is for Christ that he sings and speaks. This 
theme pervades the entire service of song. His audi- 
ence are moved as the autumn leaves are by the strong 
winds of heaven. They follow him as a triumphant 
leader is followed. Tears are wiped from the eye ; 
joy thrills the heart ; his plaintive tones fill the au- 
ditor with sympathy ; a genial smile flashes on every 
face, and the triumphal shout often comes to the lip. 

PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND MR. PHILLIPS. 

Just before his death. President Lincoln heard Mr. 
Phillips sing in the Hall of Representatives, Washing- 
ton. The hall was densely packed with the most dis- 
tinguished men and women of the nation. The Sec- 
retary of State presided. Mr. Phillips sang his cele- 
brated song, entitled " Your Mission." Among the 
stanzas are these : — 



I 



224 ' Sunshine and Shadow 

" If 3'^ou cannot on the ocean 

Sail among the swiftest fleet, 
Rocking on the highest billows, 

Laugliing at the storms you meet, 
You can stand among the sailors, 

Anchored yet within the bay ; 
You can lend a hand to help them 

As they launch their boat away. j ; 

" If you have not gold and silver 

Ever ready to command ; 
If you cannot towards the needy 

Reach an ever open hand, 
You can visit the afflicted ; 

O'er the erring you can weep; 
You can be a true disciple. 

Sitting at the Savior's feet. 

" If you cannot in the conflict 

Prove yourself a soldier true;' 
If, where fire and smoke are thickest, 

There's no work for you to do ; 
"When the battle-field is silent, 

You can go, with careful tread ; 
You can bear away the wounded, 

You can cover up the dead." 

Mr. Lincoln was greatly overcome by this song. He 
sent tip to Mr. Seward this characteristic request : — 

" Near the close let us have ' Your Mission ' repeated 
by Mr. Phillips. Don't say I called for it. 

" A. Lincoln." 

Mr. Phillips has been before the public as a singer 
for more than a dozen years. As a vocalist and com- 
poser his popularity has been universal and continuous. 
He maintains the same child-like spirit, with the sim- 
plicity of an earnest Christian man, that marked the 
opening of his career. He is not puffed up, nor is he 
vain. He has a sweet, catholic spirit, and his services 



In New York. 225 

are <Aven to all who love the Savior, without reccard to 
denominational names. He is very benevolent, and 
his generous gifts to every form of beneficence and 
Christian effort are unceasinfi: ; srreat meetinii's of the 
church can always count on the aid of Mr. Phillips. 
His generous deeds, and his large donations to charitable 
purposes, the results of his singing, will not bo known 
this side of the grave. Amid all the instrumentalities 
at work among the lowly, and the agencies employed 
to redeem and bless, none among us are more edifying, 
spiritual, devotional, and powerful than the labors of 
Mr. Phillips, with his sanctifying songs. Such a con- 
secration of rare gifts is as noble and praiseworthy as 
it is rare. ** 

15 



226 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXIV. 



SAILORS IN NEW YORK. ^' 



JACK ON SHORE. LAND-SHARKS. — BETHELS. WATER STREET RAMBLE. 

JACK ON SHORE. 

Among tlie most neglected of the population of New 
York the sailor will be found. Somethinjj!: is done for 
him, not much, and few avail themselves of the little 
assistance that is presented. A few chapels along the 
East and North Rivers, known as Bethels, contain on 
Sunday a handful of the sons of the sea. A few Homes 
have been erected, but the charges of extortion and 
cruelty, and the bad repute that hangs around them, 
turn even moral sailors to the common boardino;-houses 
for seamen. Thousands of them live in j)laces of 
degradation, where they love to be. Now, as for 
generations past, the story of a New York sailor is told 
in a few words. Home from a long voyage, he is seized 
by men who lay in wait for him ; enticed into some one 
of the many dens where sailors congregate, vile liquor is 
given to him in abundance ; women, hardened, cruel, 
and vile, rob him of all his cash ; in a drunken spree 
he is turned into the street; he signs the shipping 
articles, and is beyond Sandy Hook before he awakes 
from his drunken revelry. 



In New York. 227 



HOMES FOR SEAMEN. 

Jack has his abode in New York as well as the 
aristocracy, although its location is somewhat different. 
Any one can find him who wishes to. Where the lanes 
are the darkest and filthiest, where the dens are the 
deepest and foulest, where the low bar-rooms, groggeries, 
and dance-houses are the most numerous, where the 
vilest women and men abide, in the black sea of drunk- 
enness, lewdness, and sin, the sailor has his New York 
home. In one street there are more than a hundred 
houses for seamen, and each one viler than in any other 
locality in New York. His landlord keeps him in debt. 
He is robbed in a few days of all his hard-earned wages, 
— robbed boldly by daylight, and he has no redress. A 
walk alono: this sinole street reveals a sicrht not to be 
found in any other part of the city, not to be exceeded 
by any other vile locality in the world; — a hundred 
houses, located on both sides of the street, the most 
infamous in the city, where brawls, rioting, robberies, 
and murders take place ; a hundred dance-houses, whose 
unblushing boldness throws open doors and windows, 
that all who will may look in on the motley group of 
boys and old women, girls and old men, seamen and 
landsmen, reeking with drunkenness, obscenity, and 
blasphemy ; hundreds of low groggeries, each crowded 
with customers, black and white, old and young, foreign 
and native ! All along the sidewalk women sit, stand, 
or recline ; women clean and women filthy ; neatly 
dressed and in the vilest array ; women at work, and 
modest, apparently, as can be found in any street, steadi- 
ly at their employ, with children around them ; women 



228 Sunshine and Shadow 

who load the air with vilest imprecations, and assault 
the passer by with insolence, ribaldry, and profanity. 

SAILOR DANCE-IIOUSES. 

The dance-houses kept by the Germans are very 
neat, tasty, and attractive. The bar which stands by 
the door is as eleii-ant as that at the St. Nicholas or Fifth 

CD 

Avenue Hotel. Polished counters, brass railings bur- 
nished like ixold, huiJi;e lookino^-iirlasses reflectin^ij back the 
elegant decanters and bottles in the rear, flowers, 
pictures, statuary, paintings, make the place equal to 
any gin palace in London. The decoy daneers are of 
the better class, but persons on the direct road to the 
lowest stratum. Pianos exquisitely played, with harp 
and viol and other instruments, make music of which 
Walhick would not be ashamed. Captains, mates, long- 
shoremen, and the higher order of seamen, patronize 
these better class establishments, and commence here 
their travels in the path that leads to death. By the 
side of these more genteel sailor dance-houses will be 
seen dwellings of the lower grade. Some of them are 
in low, damp cellars, down rickety stairs, with white- 
washed walls and a fetid atmosphere, where a dozen 
of the most degraded creatures can be found, bloated, 
bold, blasphemous, dressed in short scarlet or fancy 
dresses and red boots, presenting a ghastly and sicken- 
ing sight. The room dimly lighted by candles, a negro 
playing on a wheezing fiddle, a group of men in ap- 
pearance and manners to match the women, make not 
a bad specimen of Pandemonium. Here all night long 
the sound of revelry, the shouts of the drunken, and 
oaths of reeking blasphemy, can be heard. The keeper 



In New York. 229 

of the den, the most desperate of his class, stands at 
the door. He welcomes all comers, and admission is 
free. All \Yho come have a partner assigned them. 
The lewd and boisterous dance begins ; at its close all 
go up to the bar to drink. The wife of the keeper — 
or the one who passes for his wife — presides over 
this department, which corresponds to the vile den in 
which it stands. The customers pay for the entertain- 
ment and the music by treating themselves and their 
companions. The drinks over, the dancing commences 
again. After every round all present go up and drink, 
and alternate drinking and dancing continue through 
the night. No one is allowed to remain unless he joins 
in the dance. Should he refuse to pay for the liquor, 
he would be hustled out of the cellar on to the side- 
walk, and probabl}^ brutally assaulted. The landlord is 
usually able to do this himself A bully, brutal and as 
rugged as an ox, he is always able to defend himself 
If not, he has companions within call. All the desperate 
women, at a signal from their keeper, like bloodhounds, 
would tear a man to pieces. Customers come in, take a 
dance, treat the company, and depart. Some remain 
for an hour or two ; some are carried off senseless, for 
the vile liquor is often drugged ; some are removed to 
foul dens that surround the place, and are never heard 
of more. Stupefied and robbed, many are sent to sea 
and never return -, many are foully dealt with. Poor 
Jack's millennium is far in the future ! 



230 Sunshine and Shadow 



LAND-SHARKS. 

This term is applied to a class of men, rapacious, 
tyrannical, brutal, and degraded, who hold the New 
York sailor in their grip, and never relinquish their 
hold till he is beyond Sandy Hook, and who grasp 
him before he lands on his return voyage. From 
necessity or choice, ship captains play into the hands 
of these desperadoes, make them of importance, and 
help them to jfleece the sailor, and to hold him in 
degrading tyranny. Their character and their busi- 
ness are well known to merchants and to commanders 
of vessels. Next to the pilot they board the vessel off 
Sandy Hook, fasten on the sailor, and secure him and 
his luggage. Some few captains will not allow these 
land-sharks on board. But when resisted, so desperate 
are they that they have to be beaten off by clubs. A 
resolute captain often has to put his flag at half-mast, 
and call the police boat to his assistance. The police 
have sometimes to shoot these fellows before they can 
be driven back. The captain engages a crew from 
these men. Owing to the system of advanced wages, 
sailors go to sea in debt, and so the land-sharks get their 
wages from the captain, get the men drunk, and hustle 
them on board the vessels for a long voyage. On 
board the ship, the sailor awakes from his debauch, 
and finds himself without clothing, friendless and pen- 
niless. He does not know who shipped him, what ship 
he is on, or v/here he is o-oincr. When he comes back 
he will find a long account run up against him, said to 
have been contracted while he was drunk. Again he 
will be robbed of his earnings, kept on shore as long as 



mijm 




In New York. 231 

it is profitable to keep him, drugged, and sent again to 
sea. A few merchants made an attempt to separate 
the sailors from these miscreants. The captains were 
ordered to find their men elsewhere, and to have no 
connection with the land-sharks. Sailors could not be 
fomid. Vessels loaded and ready for sea remained at 
the wharves. The terrible power of the landlords was 
found in the fact that not a seaman could be found in 
New York to man the ships. For two weeks the 
merchants held out, and then yielded by a compromise. 
But that compromise established the power of this 
depraved class. Fraud, extortion, robbery and crime 
had a new lease of life. The vilest dens for boarding- 
houses, the deadliest rum, the basest companions, gam- 
blers and women, lodgings in cellars where no human 
being ought to be kept, bad literature, bad songs and 
corrupting music, hold as in chains of steel the New 
York sailor. 

BETHELS. 

All along the North and East Pdvers are chapels for 
seamen. The Baptists, Episcopalians, Methodists, and 
Presbyterians have each a seamen's Bethel, floating or 
on shore. One bright Sunday morning I visited several 
of these seamen churches. It was evident that religion 
has but a feeble hold on the sons of the sen. It is 
estimated that there are a hundred and fifty thousand 
sailors belonging to the port, of New York. Of these I 
suppose not a thousand can be found in all the i^laces 
of worship assigned to them. A very sparse attend- 
ance is seen in these places of worship, and the ma- 
jority are the friends of the sailor rather than the sailor 
himself The Endish and Scotch, known as from the 



o o ^ 



Sunshine and Shadow 



lands, the intelligence, culture, and religion of Amer- 
ica. They furnish the means by which men roll in 
wealth, sit in their crimson pews, and live in lordly 
dwellino-s. But few think of the sailor to whom the 
metropolis is indebted for its high place among the 
nations of the earth, or attempt his elevation. 



In New York. 235 



XXV. 

FULTON STREET PRAYER-MEETING. 

EAKLY DUTCH CIIUKCII. — FOCXDER OF THE DAILY PRAVER-MEETING. — 
FIRST NOONDAY MEETING. — ITS PERSONALE. — AN INSIDE VIEW. — 
FLIES IN THE OINTMENT. — FINALE. 

EARLY DUTCH CHURCH. 

We cannot separate Fulton Street Prayer-Meeting 
from the Colleo;iate Church of New York, for this boclv 
founded the prayer-meeting, and has so far sustained 
it. The Collei2:iate Church is the orl^i-inal church of 
Manhattan. Our Dutch ancestors Avere a pious race. 
They scattered themselves from the Battery to West- 
chester, and from Ilackensack to Wallabout Bay. 
Within the fort at the Battery they built a church as 
soon as they landed. It was a rude place of worship, 
but precious to them ; and to the sanctuary they 
gathered every Sunday. Distance was no hinderance. 
Some lived twenty miles away, and they walked the 
whole distance. They would not travel on the Sab- 
bath. They started on foot Saturday afternoons, to 
reach the sanctuary before midnight. Worshipping on 
the Sabbath, they remained until after midnight. 
When the Sabbath was fully past, they took up their 
line of march. With the songs of Marot they beguiled 



23G Sunshine and Shadow 

their Wfi}^, and reacliecl home in season for their work 
on Mondav morninii^. 

The Island of Manhattan belonged to the Dutch by 
all the rights known to colonists. But thev chose to 
purchase the soil from the natives who claimed it. 
The}- bought it as really as Pennsylvania was purchased. 
They paid the full price demanded, sixty-six years 
before AYilliam Penn landed in the New World. With 
great Christian liberality the Dutch extended the hand 
of friendship to Trinity Church, and shared the Sabbath 
services with the houseless congregation. When 
Trinity settled her first rector, she was short-handed, 
and the ministers of the Dutch Church assisted at the 
installation. From the Battery, the church established 
itself in what is now known as Exchange Place, in the 
rear of the Merchants' Exchans-e. A new church was 
reared, and is now occupied as a post office. In 1760, 
the North Church was dedicated. In the revolutionary 
war it was used as a prison by the British, and marks 
of bayonets and pikes are still seen in the sandstone. 
Two cannons, placed near the doorway by the British, 
still remain. A benevolent Dutchman presented to 
this church an estate known as the Manor of Fordham. 
Another member gave a small farm, outside of the city 
at that time, and it was considered of very little worth. 
It was that plot of ground, on either side of Fulton 
Street, running from Broadway towards the East Eiver, 
and is now one of the most valuable sites in New York, 
occupied by massive and imposing warehouses. This 
property makes the Collegiate Church, except Trinity, 
the richest ecclesiastical corporation in the land, and 
with this body the Fulton Street meeting be^an. 



In New York. 237 



FOUNDER OF THE DAILY RRAYER-^iIEETING. 

In 1857 there was a general revival of religion. 
The lower part of the city had become a moral waste. 
Trade and a foreign population had taken possession 
of the cit}' below the City Hall. The dwellings where 
the rich men at one time resided were pulled down to 
make room for stores. The dwellino-s that remained 
were either boarding-houses, or occupied by a tenant 
population. The pulpits in which the giants of New 
York had preached the gospel were no more. Spring, 
Mason, Potts, Phillips, Alexander, and others, removed 
to other parts of the city. Lower Nevv" York was 
deserted. The Old North Church remained. It was 
put in complete and elegant repair. A learned and 
eloquent ministry occupied the pulpit. The house was 
thrown open to all who chose to worship God within 
its walls. It secured a missionary, in the person of 
Jeremiah Calvin Lanphier, a man of rare and peculiar 
gifts, of unshrinking courage, and marked piety. He 
was not far from forty years of age, tall, and of a fine 
presence, a winning face, and a manner affectionate 
and attractive. He possessed great energy and per- 
severance, was a fine singer, gifted in prayer and ex- 
hortation, easy of approach, and a welcome guest to 
any house ; very shrewd, and possessing tact, with 
good common sense, he was eminently fitted for the 
position he was called to fill. Anxious to be a blessing 
to the poor, the neglected, and the perishing, he was 
equally anxious to reach the merchants of New lork, 
and lay his hand in kindness on young men in busi- 
ness. 



238 Sunshine and Shadow 

Walking in the street one clay, this idea suggested 
itself: Why not have a meeting of prayer for business 
men, at the hour of noon when all go to lunch, made 
up of singing, prayer, and speaking, allowing persons 
to come and go during meeting as they please ? He 
had been a merchant, and knew how difficult it was to 
attend a devotional meetino; in the evenino;. The 
hour of noon was one of leisure for merchants, clerks, 
draymen, and men of toil. He resolved to open a daily 
meeting of prayer from twelve to one ; a union meet- 
ing, free from sectarianism, from which the cold and 
formal routine of prayer-meetings should be banished ; 
made up of brief songs, brief prayers, and brief ad- 
dresses. No one should be allowed to speak over five 
minutes. No controverted or doctrinal points should 
be introduced. No one should be obliged to stay a 
moment lono^er than he chose. Parties could come 
in and go out at any moment without interrupting the 
meeting. Such was the plan. 

FIRST NOONDAY MEETING. 

On the 27th day of November, 1857, the small con- 
sistory-room connected with the North Dutch Church 
was thrown open for service. At twelve o'clock no 
one was present but the missionary. He sat alone one 
half hour. A solitary step was then heard on the 
stairs, and a person entered the room. All told, six 
persons composed the little company. The next day 
twenty persons gathered ; the next, forty. In October 
the central room of the consistory building was opened, 
and from that time to this, for more than ten years, the 
meetinn^s have been continued with unabated zeal, 



-■-■AL 



In New York. 239 

ever the fullest and most remarkable prayer-meeting 
in the world. 

THE PERSON ALE OF THE MEETING. 

There is no plainer room in New York than the 
lecture-room of the Dutch Church where the daily 
prayer-meeting is held. It is in the second story of 
the consistory-rooms on Fulton Street. The walls are 
covered with gilt frames, holding the rules, mottoes, and 
notices. The seats are hard, crowded together to make 
room, and are very uncomfortable. The surroundings 
are unattractive, and little suited to devotion. In the 
centre of the busiest portion of New York the prayer- 
meeting is held. The bells of the horse cars, the shouts 
of carmen, the noise of artisans, the hammer and saw 
of the carpenter, the whistle of the steam-engine, the 
blowino; off of steam, with other noises of busv life, 
come directly into the room. The singing is congrega- 
tional, without instrument or artistic attraction. Old 
tunes, revival tunes, and experimental h.ymns, are 
sung. The missionary who originated the meeting 
has conducted its music for ten consecutive years. At 
twelve precisely the leader rises and gives out a hj-mn. 
This is a business men's meeting, and a layman usually 
presides. He may be educated or illiterate ; dressed 
as a merchant or as a carman. Perhaps he may be an 
old man, with his hair frosted by years ; he may be a 
young man, just commencing a Christian life ; but he 
is a warm-hearted Christian. Before the meeting 
closes the room will be packed. Earnest men and 
women will fill all the standing room. Evcrj' denomi- 
nation is here represented. Men come from the sea, 



240 Sunshine and Shadow 

from the mountains of Asia, from the hot sands of 
Arabia, from India, from the Old World, and all parts 
of the New. This daily meeting is the Religious Ex- 
change of New York. Eminent men, clerical and lay, 
from all parts of the country, and of the world ; emi- 
nent ministers, lawyers, merchants, look in on the 
meeting. They bring tidings from every part of Zion. 
Those who want to see and hear distinguished men, 
know they will find them in this place of prayer. 
Earnest prayers are offered, the swelling chorus of 
song, thanksgivings for remarkable answers to prayer, 
make the hour all too short. Requests for prayer 
come in from all the world, covering every variety of 
want and suffering peculiar to humanity. The tone 
of the requests shows that the writers regard the 
Fulton Street meeting as the pool of healing to the 
Evangelical Church. 

AN INSIDE VIEW. 

The room is reached from Fulton or Ann Streets, up 
a covered pathway. The floor is covered with matting, 
the room filled with settees. The missionary stands 
at the door, and with his tiptoe tread, bland face, and 
resolute will, makes the ladies move up and sit close. 
Precisely on the minute the service is opened. Such 
congregational singing would be popular anywhere. 
The audience is trained to sing, being composed of the 
cream of the churches. The tunes are familiar, and 
the hymns are associated with the heart's warmest 
affections. Borne on the tide of full, warm, and deep 
emotion, the swelling song of praise is wafted to 
heaven. The reading of the requests follows, and 



In New York. 241 

they are numerous. They come from missionary sta- 
tions, from the iskinds of the sea, from the dwellers in 
the habitations of cruelty, from all classes and condi- 
tions in our own land. 

FLIES IN THE OINTMENT. 

Men who have hobbies to ride often anuoy the 
meeting. Men with impracticable theories persist 
in presenting them. Sometimes men who have ora- 
tory in prayer come with high-sounding phrases, 
pompous words, colloquial addresses, to the King of 
kings, and are an abomination. Sometimes women 
try to speak. This is contrary to the rules. One 
day a lady arose to make an address. She was in- 
formed that it was against the rules, and immediately 
she sat down. A tall, masculine woman arose, and 
in a tone of marked anger, with a loud, harsh voice, 
and a decided Scotch accent, cried out, " I'll not 
attend this meeting again. I am a converted woman 
myself If our sister is not allowed to speak, the 
Spirit of God is not here. I am a converted woman. 
I say that. But I'll not come here again ! " and 
she flounced out of the room. Men have attempted, 
over and over again, to change the tone of the 
meeting. Impulsive men have tried to break the 
rules; have appealed from the ruling of the leader 
to the audience ; votes have been taken ; peoj)le have 
tried to sell books, build churches, and beg money 
out of the meeting. To all this one answer has 
been steadily given : " This is a Union prayer-meeting. 
All who approve the plan on which it has been 

16 



242 Sunshine and Shadow 

established are welcome. Those who do not must 
find a place of prayer that suits them." 

FINALE. 

About a fourth of the meetinoj are ladies. A very 
large number are young men. They come with blank- 
books in their hands, pencils behind their ears, memo- 
randum-books peeping out of their pockets, and marks 
of trade about them. They come not simply as 
spectators, but they bear an important part in the 
meeting. Carmen and draymen drive w\) to the curb- 
stone, leave their teams, and come in with frocks on and 
whips in their hands, and join heartily in song, prayer, 
and speech ; bankers, expressmen, merchants, and me- 
chanics unite in the service. Such a grouping of classes, 
conditions, trades, and sects can be found nowhere else. 
The formal Churchman, the conservative Dutchman, 
the ardent Congregationalist, the quiet Friend, the im- 
pulsive Baptist, the stately Presbyterian, sit side by 
side, while the hearty " Amen " ringing through the 
chapel indicates that the Methodist element is not 
wanting. As a success, as a meeting of power, with a 
fame of ten years which has followed the drum-beat of 
nations round the world, this simple, plain, unpretend- 
ing meeting of united Christians for daily prayer is one 
of the most wonderful institutions of the metropolis. 



In New York. 243 



XXVI. 

BUSINESS REVERSES IN NEW YORK. 

MIRAGE OF WEALTH. — RAILROAD CONDUCTOR. — A RAILROAD KING. — 

SARATOGA BELLE. ROCK IN TUB CHANNEL. SUCCESS A COY THING. 

OLD-SCHOOL MERCHANTS. 

MIRAGE OF WEALTH. 

Men who visit New York, and see nothing but the 
outside aspect which it presents, imagine that success 
is one of the easiest things in the world, and to heap 
up riches a mere j)astime in the city. They are famil- 
iar with the name and history of the Astors. They 
know that Stewart began life a poor boy, kept store in 
a small shanty, and kept house in a few rooms in a 
dwelling, and boarded his help. They walk through 
Fifth Avenue, and look on the outside of palaces where 
men dwell who left home a few years ago with their 
worldly wealth tied up in a cotton handkerchief They 
stroll around Central Park, and magnificent teams, 
gay equipages, and gayer ladies and gentlemen, go by 
in a constant stream ; and men are pointed out who a 
short time ago were grooms, coachmen, ticket-takers, 
boot-blacks, news-boys, printer's devils, porters, nud 
coal-heavers, who have come up from the lower walks 
of life by dabbhng in stocks, by a lucky speculation, or 



244 Sunshine and Shadow 

a snclden turn of fortune. So yoimg men pour in from 
the coimtry, confident of success, and ignorant that 
these men are the exceptions to the general law of 
trade ; and that ruin and not success, defeat and not 
fortune, bankruptcy and not a fine competence, are 
the law of New York trade. 

Nothinof is more strikino; or more sad than the com- 
mercial reverses of this city. They come like tempests 
and hail storms which threaten every man's phantation, 
and cut down the harvest ready for the sickle. Few 
firms have had permanent success for twenty-five 
years. In one house in this city twenty men are em- 
ployed as salesmen on a salary, who, ten years ago, 
were called princely merchants, whose fiimilies lived 
in style, and who led the fashions. Men who embark 
on the treacherous sea of mercantile life are ingulfed, 
and while their richly-laden barks go down, they 
escape personally by the masts and spars thrown to 
them by more fortunate adventurers. One house in 
this city, quite as celebrated at one time as Stewart's, 
who, in imitation of that gentleman, built their marble 
store on Broadway, are now salesmen in establishments 
more successful than their own. New York is full of 
reduced merchants. Some of them bravely bear up 
under their reverses. Some hide away in the multitude 
of our people. Some take rooms in tenant-houses. 
Some do a little brokerage business, given to them by 
those who knew them in better days. Some take to 
the bottle, and add moral to commercial ruin. 



In New York. 245 



RAILROAD CONDUCTOR. 

Riding down town one night in one of our city cars, 
1 paid my faie to a conductor who gave me a sharp, 
searching look. When below Canal Street, as there 
were uo other passengers in the car, he came and sat 
down ])eside me. He said, " I know you very well, 
though I suppose } ou do not know me. I used to go 
to school with you in Boston." I remembered hijn as 
the son of a wealthy gentleman not unknown to fame 
in that city. His father had an elegant house in the 
cit}', and, what was then unusual, a fine mansion in the 
country. The sv>n was indulged in luxuries unusual in 
that day. He had a pony on which he rode to school, 
and was attended by a servant. He had a watch and 
other trinkets that oxcited the envy of his companions. 
His father lived in grand stjle, and his equipage 
attracted general attention. He lived fjist, but it was 
said he could afford it. To maintain his position he 
was tempted to commit a great crime. Able counsel 
saved him from the penitentiary, but his ruin was com- 
plete, and his family shared in the general wreck. 
His children are now scattered over the country, to 
earn a living wherever they can find it. This son, well 
educated, tenderly cared for, and trained to every 
indulgence, gets his as the conductor ,>f a citj railroad 
car, a calling laborious and ill paid. 

A RAILROAD KING. 

One of the most successful railroad men of New Yoi k 
boarded at one of our principal hotels. Ho was ar. 
unmarried man. He was accounted an eminent anc. 



246 Sunshine and Shadow 

successful financier. His reputation and standing were 
imquestioned. He was connected with the principal 
capitalist in the city, and was one whom New York 
delighted to honor. In a small house in the upper 
part of the city he had a home. Here he lived a part 
of his time, and reared a family, though the mother of 
his childi'en was not his wife. Down town, at his hotel, 
he passed by one name, up town, in his house, he w^as 
kno^vn by another. It would seem impossible that a 
prominent business man, reputed to be rich, brought 
into daily business contact with princely merchants 
and bankers, the head of a large railroad interest, could 
reside in New York, and for a number of years lead 
the double life of a bachelor and a man of family ; be 
known by one name down town, and another name up 
town ; yet so it was. At his hotel and at his office he 
was found at the usual hours. To his up-town home 
he came late and went out early. There he was seldom 
seen. The landlord, the butcher, the grocer, and the 
milkman transacted all their business with the lady. 
Bills were promptly paid, and no questions asked. 
The little girls became young ladies. They went to 
the best boardino;-schools in the land. 

An unexpected crisis came. A clergyman in good 
standing became acquainted with one of the daughters 
at her boarding-school. He regarded her with so much 
interest, that he solicited her hand in marriage. He 
was referred to the mother. The daughters had said 
that their father was a wealthy merchant of New 
York; but his name did not appear in the Directory, 
he was not known on 'change. The lover only knew 
the name by wdiich the daughters w^ere called. The 



In New York. 247 

mother was affable, but embarrassed. The gentleman 
thought something was wrong, and insisted on a ^r- 
sonal interview with the father. The time was ap- 
pointed for the interview. The young man was greatly 
astonished to discover in the father of the young lady 
one of the most eminent business men of the city. He 
gave his consent to the marriage, and promised to do 
well by the daughter, though he admitted that the 
mother of the young lady was not his wife. The 
clerg3^man was greatly attached to the young woman, 
who was really beautiful and accomplished. He agreed 
to lead her to the altar, if, at the same time, the mer- 
chant would make the mother his wife. This was 
agreed to, and the double wedding was consumma^aa 
the same nio;ht. The father and mother were first 
married, and then the father gave away the daughter. 
The affair created a ten days' sensation. The veil of 
secrecy was removed. The family took the down-town 
name, which was the real one — a name among the 
most honored in the city. An up-town fashionable 
mansion was purchased, and fitted up in style. Crowds 
filled the spacious parlors, for there was just 'piquancy 
enough in the case to make it attractive. Splendid 
coaches of the fashionable filled the street ; a dashing 
company crow'ded the pavement, and rushed up the 
steps to enjoy the sights. These brilliant parties con- 
tinued but a short time. The merchant was rotten at 
heart. All New York was astounded one day at the 
report that the great railroad king had become a gi- 
gantic defiiulter, and had absconded. His crash carried 
down fortunes and families with his own. Commercial 
circles yet suffer for his crimes. The courts are still 



248 Sunshine and Shadow 

fretted with suits between great corporations and indi- 
viiliials growing out of these transactions. Fashionable 
New York, which could overlook twenty years of 
criminal life, could not excuse poverty. It took re- 
prisals for bringing this family into social position by 
hurling it back into an obscurity from which probably 
it will never emerge. 

SARATOGA BELLE. 

A few summers ago a lady of New York reigned as 
a belle at Saratoga. Her elegant and numerous 
dresses, valuable diamonds, and dashing turnout at- 
tracted great attention. Her husband was a quiet sort 
of a man, attending closely to his business. He came 
to Saratoga on Saturdays, and returned early on Mon- 
day morning. The lady led a gay life, was the centre 
of attraction, patronized the plays, and was eagerly 
sought as a partner at the balls. After a very brilliant 
and gay season she disappeared from fashionable life, 
and was soon forgotten. One cold season a benevolent 
New York lady visited a tenement-house on an errand 
of mercy. Mistaking the door to which she was di- 
rected, she knocked at a corresponding one on another 
story. The door was opened by a female, who looked 
on the visitor for an instant, and then suddenly closed 
the door. The lady was satisfied that she had seen 
the woman somewhere, and thinking she might afford 
aid to a needy person, she persistently knocked at the 
door till it was opened. Judge of her surprise when 
she found that the occupant of that room, in that tene- 
ment-house, was the dashing belle whom she had met 
a season or two before at the Springs ! In one room 



In New York. 249 

herself and liusb.and lived, in a building overrun with 
occupants, crowded with children, dirt, and turbulence. 
Mortification and suffering, blended with poverty, in a 
few months had done the w^ork of years on that comely 
face. Her story was the old one related a thousand 
times. Reverses, like a torrent, suddenly swept away 
a large fortune. Her husband became discouraged, 
disconsolate, and refused to try again. He lost his 
self-respect, took to the bowl, and became a drunkard. 
The wife followed him step by step in his descent, from 
his high place among the merchants to his home 
amono; the dissolute. To furnish herself and husband 
with bread, she parted with her dresses, jewels, and 
personal effects. She pointed to a heap in the corner, 
covered with rags, and that w^as all that remained of 
a princely merchant ! 

ROCK IN THE CHANNEL. 

The speculating mania which pervades New York is 
one of the rocks in the channel on which so many 
strike and founder. Shrewd, enterprising men, -who 
are eno-an-ed in successful business, are induced to make 
investments in stocks and operations of various kinds, 
and are thus at the mercy of sharpers. Their balance 
in the bank is well known. Speculators lay snares for 
them, and catch them with guile. A man makes 
money in a business he understands, and loses it in 
one he knows nothing about. One is a successful mer- 
chant, and he imagines he can be a successful broker ; 
one stands at the head of the bar, and he thinks he can 
lead the Stock Board. He is a broker ; he adds to it 
an interest in railroads or steamboats. Men have a 



250 Sunshine and Shadow 

few thousand dollars that they do not need at present 
in their business. They are easily enticed into a little 
speculation by which they may make their fortune. 
They get in a little way, and to save what they have 
invested they advance more. They continue in this 
course until their outside ventures ruin their legitimate 
business. Stock companies, patent medicines, patent 
machines, oil wells, and copper stocks have carried 
down thousands of reputed millionnaires, with bankers, 
brokers, and dry goods men, who have been duped by 
unprhicipled schemers. Fortunes made by tact, dili- 
gence, and shrewdness, are lost by an insane desire to 
make fifty or one hundred thousand dollars in a day. 
The mania for gambling in trade marks much of the 
business of New York. The stock and gold gambling 
has brought to the surface a set of men new to the 
city. The stock business, which was once in the hands 
of the most substantial and respectable of our citizens, 
is now controlled by men desperate and reckless. Any 
man who can command fifty dollars becomes a broker. 
These men know no hours and no laws. Early and 
late they are on the ground. No gamesters are more 
desperate or more suddenly destroyed. The daily re- 
verses in Wall Street exceed any romance that has 
been written. A millionnaire leaves his palatial resi- 
dence in the morning, and goes home at night a ruined 
man. It is a common thing for speculators who can 
afford it, to draw checks of from fifty to one hundred 
thousand dollars to make up their losses in a single 
day. One well-known speculator, unable to deliver 
the stock he had pledged himself to deliver, drew his 
check for the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand 



In New York. 251 

dollars, the amount of his loss in a single transaction. 
A man rides up to Central Park one afternoon with his 
dashing eq-uipage ; his wife and proud daughters whirl 
the dust in the eyes of well-to-do citizens who are on 
foot. The next day this fine team and elegant man- 
sion, with store full of goods, go into the hands of his 
creditors. He sends his family into the country, and 
either disappears himself, or is seen on the outskirts of 
the crowd, waiting for something to turn up. The 
reckless mode of doing business leads to a reckless 
style of living, extravagance and dissipation, which no 
legitimate business can support. The mania touches 
all classes. Women and ministers are not exempt. 
One pastor in this city is a good specimen of the- power 
of this speculating mania. The demon got possession 
of him. He made a little money. He started to make 
five thousand. He moved the figure ahead to the 
little sum of a quarter of a million. The business 
transformed the man. His face became haii-fj-ard ; his 
eyes dilated ; his hair dishevelled ; he could not sleep ; 
he bought all the editions of the papers ; got up nights 
to buy extras ; chased the boys round the corners for 
the latest news ; was early at the stock market, and 
amono; the last to leave the Fifth Avenue Hotel at 
night when the board closes its late session. Whether 
a quarter of a million is worth what it costs, this gen- 
tleman can tell when he gets it. A lady in this city 
came from New England. She was the child of a sail- 
maker, and was brought up in humble circumstances. 
A wealthy man, whose repute was not high, and whose 
disposition was not amiable, offered her his hand. She 
did not expect love, nor hardly respect, but he offered 



252 Sunshine and Shadow 

her instead a coach, an elegant mansion, and costly 
jewels. She found herself suddenly elevated. She 
lived in commanding style, with her furniture, plate, 
and servants. She bore her elevation badly, and looked 
down with scorn upon her old friends and associates. 
Her husband engaged deeply in speculation ; it proved 
a ruinous one. To help himself out of a crisis he com- 
mitted forgery. He was sent to the State Prison. His 
great establishment was seized. Her house was sold 
over her head by the sheriff! Her jewels, valued at 
fifteen thousand dollars, were spirited away, and she 
never saw them more. She was suddenly elevated, 
and as suddenly hurled down to the position from 
which she had been taken. 

SUCCESS A COY THING. 

The men who are the cajDitalists of New York to- 
day are not. the sons of the wealthy or successful mer- 
chants of the city. They are men whose fathers were 
porters, wood-choppers, and coal-heavers. They did the 
hard work, swept out the stores, made the fires, used 
the marking-pot, were kicked and cuffed about, and 
suffered every hardship. But they jostled and outran 
the pamjDcred son of their employer, and carried off the 
prize. The chief end of man is not to make money. 
But if one imagines that it is, and that a fortune must 
be made at once, then he will barter the solid ground 
for the mirage, and leave a successful business for the 
glittering morass ; trade that insures a handsome com- 
petence for wild speculation. The hands on the dial 
plate of industry will stand still while men grasp at 
shadows. 



In New York. 253 

In New York, two kinds of business greet a comer, 
one bad, the other good ; one easy to get, the other 
hard ; the one pays at the start, the other pays but 
littk^ : perhaps the position itself must be paid for. If 
one wants money, says he has his fortune to make and 
cannot wait, he will take what turns up, and wait for 
better times. Disreputable trade, questionable busi- 
ness, a tricky house, a saloon or a bar-room, are open to 
a reputable young man, and if he have a dash of piety, 
all the better. But such touch pitch and are defiled ; 
they seldom lose the taint of the first business in 
which they are engaged. Men can be good or bad in 
any trade. They can be sound lawyers or pettifoggers ; 
a merchant of property or a mock auctioneer ; a physi- 
cian whose skill and character endear him to the best 
families in the land, or a doctor whose " sands of life 
have almost run out ; " a preacher who says, " Woe is 
me if I preach not the gospel," or a minister who, like 
some in the olden time, said, '" Put me, I I3ray thee, 
into the priest's office, that I may get me a morsel of 
bread." There is no permanent success without in- 
tegrity, industry, and talent. 

In trade there are two codes that govern men. The 
one is expressed in the mottoes, " All is fair in trade ;" 
" Be as honest as the times will allow ; " " If you buy 
the devil, you must sell him again." The other acts on 
business principles; sells a sound horse for a sound 
price; gives the customer the exact article that he 
buys. The few houses that have been successful, amid 
an almost universal crash, have been houses which 
have done business on principle. In cases where honor- 
able tradesmen have been obliged to suspend, they are 



254 Sunshine and Shadow 

the last to go down and the first to recover. Manu- 
factories that have been noted for goods of excellent 
quality feel depression the latest and rise the quickest. 
If a glass is wanted for the Observatory at Washington, 
an order goes to England, France, or Germany; the 
lens is received and put in its place without trial, for 
the reputation of the house is a guarantee of its ex- 
cellence. This reputation is capital, out of which the 
fortune is made. If the stamp of Eogers & Son on a 
piece of cutlery is genuine, no one wants a guarantee 
that the knife is good. 97 High Holborn is well 
known throughout the civilized world as the Tower. 
It is the depot of Day & Martin's celebrated blacking. 
The unquestioned excellence of the article has not 
only secured a fortune to the firm, but a tenant in that 
building is sure of success. The location is well known, 
and the owners will have none but honorable trades- 
men on their premises. A box of axes put up at the 
Douglas manufactory, in Massachusetts, is not opened 
till, hundreds of miles beyond the Mississippi, the hardy 
woodsman beo-ins to fell the forest — the vauQ-uard of 
civilization. The maker and the buyer know the value 
of integrity in business matters. 

OLD MERCHANTS. 

The men who founded the mercantile character of 
this city are known as men of the Old School. They 
were celebrated for their courtesy and integrity. They 
came from the humblest walks of life ; from the plough 
and anvil ; from the lapstone and printing case ; from 
the farm and the quarry. They worked their way up, as 
Daniel worked his from the position of a slave to Prime 



In New York. 255 

Minister of Babylon. Some of these men went from the 
store to compete with the ablest statesmen of the world. 
Some left their patients on a sick bed to measure swords 
with veteran commanders on the battle-field. They 
met on the seas naval oflicers of highest rank, and made 
them haul down their flags to the new banner of our 
nation. They sounded out freedom in the Declaration 
of Independence ; the bugle-call rang over hill and 
dale, crossed oceans and continents, into dungeons, and 
made tyrants tremble in their palace homes, — building 
a nation that no treason could ruin and no foreign foe 
destro}'. Like the Eddystone lighthouse, the Union, 
sometimes hid for a moment by the angry surges, still 
threw its steady light on the turbulent waters, and 
guided the tempest-tossed into the harbor where they 
would be. 

These Old School men ate not a bit of idle bread. 
They were content with their small store and pine 
desk. They owned their goods, and were their own 
cashiers, salesmen, clerks, and porter. They w^orked 
sixteen hours a day, and so became millionnaires. They 
would as soon have committed forgery as to have been 
mean or unjust in trade. They made their wealth in 
business, and not in fraudulent failure. They secured 
their fortunes out of their customers, and not out of 
their creditors. Not so Youno^ America. lie must 
make a dash. He begins with a brown-stone store, 
filled with goods for which he has paid nothing ; mar- 
ries a dashing belle ; delegates all the business that he 
can to others ; lives in style, and spends his money 
before he gets it; keeps his fast horse, and other 



256 



Sunshine and Shadow 



appendages equally flist ; is much at the club room, on 
the sporting track, and in billiard or kindred saloons; 
speaks of his father as the " old governor," and of his 
mother as the "old woman ; " and finally becomes j)orter 
to his clerk, and lackey to his salesman. Beginning 
where his father left off, he leaves off where his father 
began. 



In New York. 257 



XXVII. 

ADAMS EXPRESS COMPANY. 

ORIGIN or THE EXPRESS BUSINESS. ORGANIZATION. HEADQUARTERS. 

THE SUPERINTENDENT. THE STABLES. THE LESSON. 

ORIGIN OF THE EXPRESS BUSINESS. 

Boston has the honor of originating the express: 
companies of America. One morning a man took the 
East Boston ferrj^, bound for Salem, over the Eastern. 
Raih'oad. He held in his hand a small trunk, trimmed 
witli red morocco, and fastened with brass nails. The 
trunk contained a few notes which the person was to 
collect ; a small sum of money he was to pay, and a few 
commissions he was to execute. These were the tano-i- 
])le things in the trunk. Besides these notes, money, 
and orders, that little trunk, which a child midit have, 
lifted and carried, contained the germ of the express 
business of the land, whose ao-encies, untiring; as the 
sun, are almost as regular ; which girdle this continent, 
cross and recross at every point, and track commerce,, 
gain, glory, and religion round the globe. 

The man still lives, among the most honored of his 
fellow-citizens, who commenced the express business as 
an experiment between Boston and New York. Alvin 
Adams, on the 4th day of May, 1840, made his first 

17 



258 Sunshine and Shadow 

trip between those cities as an expressman. He had 
no business, no customers, and no money. He shrewd- 
ly saw the coming greatness of his calhng, though for 
one year it was carried on in the smallest possible way. 
He had indomitable energy ; his integrity was without 
a question ; he gained slowly on the confidence of the 
community, and closed the year with a future success 
before him. 

ORGANIZATION. 

William B. Dinsmore, the present honored head of 
the Adams Express Company, in 1841 became the New 
York partner. With the rapid increase of business, 
branches were extended towards the south. Edward 
S. Sandford, the present vice-president of the company, 
carried the business to Philadeljohia. In the same year, 
Samuel M. Shoemaker extended the business to Balti- 
more. These gentlemen are still connected with the 
company. In 1854 a joint stock company was formed, 
with a capital of a million dollars. The ablest business 
talent in the land was called to the charge of affairs. 
The company now stretches out its arms towards all 
the towns, villages, and cities in the land. It is an 
express company for merchandise, from a bundle to a 
ship load. The amount of money received and dis- 
bursed every da}^ exceeds that of any bank in the 
nation. It collects and pays out the smallest sum, and 
from that to a large wagon loaded with money, and 
drawn by three horses. During the war the company 
rendered efficient service to the government. In time 
of peril or panic, when the property of the army was 
abandoned or sacrificed, it bore away cart-loads of 
money by its coolness and courage, and saved millions 



In New York. 259 

to the treasury. The company opened a department 
expressly to carry money from the private soldiers to 
their families. For a very small sum funds were taken 
from the soldier and delivered to his friends in any part 
of the land. I have seen, at one arrival, a bundle of 
greenbacks from the troops that no two men could lift. 
On several occasions, the transportation department in 
the army being in utter confusion, application was 
made to the Adams Express Company for relief A 
shrewd, practical man sent out from this office would 
straighten matters in a short time. 

HEADQUARTERS. 

On Broadway, below Trinity Church, stands the head- 
quarters of the company. It is a model for con- 
venience, elegance, and utility. The immense business 
requires from twenty-five to fifty distinct departments, 
and each with an efficient head. Order, system, and 
despatch reign throughout the house. The quietness 
of a bank pervades the establishment. The company 
pay the highest wages, and secure the best o men. 
Every man knows his duty, has his place, and must do 
his work. No loud talking, swearing, or vulgarity is 
allowed. The building is fitted up with great elegance. 
The president's room is regal. Mr. Dinsmore, who has 
been identified with the company from its start, a 
practical business man, prompt, intelligent, and efficient, 
who blandly receives all comers, and courteously greets 
all who have any business to do, cannot be imposed 
upon. The whole building is fitted up in the best 
style of a banking-house. Order and neatness per- 
vade every department. The attic is a museum. 



260 Sunshine and Shadow 

Uncalled-for articles are here stored, and are marked 
'' 0. H.," which means On Hand ; in the parlance of the 
office it is called " Old Hoss." The running expenses 
of the concern are not less than twelve thousand 
dollars a day. 

THE SUPERINTENDENT. 

For many years John Hoey has been the executive 
officer. Much of the system and success is due to him. 
On entering the headquarters, the superintendent can 
be seen at his little desk opposite the door, — a man 
of medium height, thick-set, of sandy complexion, with 
a sharp, short, vigorous utterance. He despatches the 
complicated business of his position with ease and 
promptness. He has a remarkable combination of 
fitting gifts for his position. He is smart and courte- 
ous, shrewd and patient ; blending suavity with great 
executive ability ; never off his guard, never losing 
his temper ; ready for any emergency, and prompt at 
all times. His position is perplexing and complicated. 
He has to deal with thousands of small packages, thou- 
sands of small customers, thousands of unreasonable 
men, thousands of nervous and irritable women, thou- 
sands of persons stupid and mad ; with property lost, 
trunks stolen, packages missing ; with turbulent cus- 
tomers threatening lawsuits. Every man's case is the 
most urgent, and all demand attention and redress at 
once. Without a cool and intelligent head, the head- 
quarters would be a scene of wild and inextricable con- 
fusion. But all day long, with the coming and going 
of thousands, the demands, the threats, and the loud 
talking, Mr. Hoey can be seen as pleasant as a sum- 
mer morning. He has but a word for each, and that 



In New York. 261 

the rig-ht one. The man who threatens a lawsuit is 
told to go ahead ; the boisterous talker cools down 
nnder the icy blandness of the executive ; unreason- 
able men cease their strife, and the timid have their 
fears allayed. The equity of his decisions usually 
satisfies. He can do more business in a day, get more 
work out of men, get more goods into a wagon, get it 
off quicker, get more freight on board of a ship, and 
make all hands feel better about it, than any other 
man in New York. A wagon returns from a vessel 
without luiloading. The driver reports that the captain 
will not take another package. Mr. Hoey jumps on 
to the box with the driver, returns to the vessel, un- 
loads, gets every package on board, and with a hearty 
good will, mutually expressed, shakes hands with the 
captain, and returns to the ofi&ce. 

THE STABLES. 

The stables are in the rear of the headquarters. 
They are the most convenient of any in the city, and 
are well worth a visit. They are five stories high, and, 
like a Fifth Avenue house, have all the modern improve- 
ments. Comfort, ventilation, cleanliness, and conven- 
ience are combined. Every horse has his name and his 
stall, and every harness its particular hook on which it 
must hang. Every piece of it must be kept clean and 
bright, and fit for immediate use. There are no cor- 
ners for rubbish, for the system and order of the ofhce 
reigns in the stable. Few men take better care of 
their families than this company do of their horses. 
The stables are as inviting; as a summer-house, and are 
as attractive as the queen's at \Yindsor Castle. The 



262 Sunshine and Shadow 

company offer a premium for fine horses, and secure 
the best in the land. Over a hundred and fifty horses 
are used to do the business of the concern in New 
York, some of which know quite as much as the men. 
The celebrated tandem team are the most valuable and 
sagacious horses in the land. They are elegant, of 
great size, are groomed perfectly, and nothing can 
excel their harness and trappings. Four of them are 
attached to the wagon, one before the other, Boston 
style. They start from the office for the upper part of 
the city with an immense load of goods, guided by no 
reins, and only an occasional word from the driver. 
These sagacious creatures will thread their way up 
through Broadway when it is the most thickly crowded 
with teams, crossing and recrossing in every direction; 
when the police have to unlock the conflicting teams ; 
when a man cannot get over without the aid of an 
officer; and yet these horses will move on unguided. 
They seem to know the width of the wagon, and will 
not enter an opening large enough for themselves 
unless the wagon can follow. They w ill back and start, 
cross over, change their course, move at the right mo- 
ment, prick up their ears, fling their heads up, snort, 
and carry the wagon safely through, as if navigating 
Broadway, in its wildest confusion, had been the study 
of their lives. The horses occupy three stories of the 
stables, two of them below ground. The stalls, cribs, 
mode of waterino; and feedinff, are on new methods. 
An old horse who has outgrown his usefulness is daily 
hoisted on a platform from his subterranean stall to the 
attic, where he grinds the food for his more vigorous 
companions. 



In New York. 263 



THE LESSON. 

The men who originated this successful company, 
who still conduct its immense business, and through it 
have secured an ample fortune, began life as humble 
and as lowly as the lowest. They were trained among 
the farms and hills of New England. In the plain 
school-house they secured their education. In the 
church they received the good principles which have 
underlaid their success. A father's prayers followed 
them as they left the old homestead. A mother's bless- 
ing rested on their heads as they turned away to seek 
their fortune. The success of this company, for a quar- 
ter of a century, proves that integrity, fair dealing, 
promptness, and indomitable persevemnce have a 
commercial value. 



264 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXVIII. 

COLLEGE HONORS. 

COMMON BOON. — COVETED HONORS. — THE SCRAMBLE. — A RACE. 

COMMON boon. 

Almost every preacher in New York is a Doctor of 
Divinity. Mere lads and whipsters are divines. Men 
who have no social or religious standing put D. D. after 
their name. Men who cannot construe correctly a 
sentence in Paradise Lost are announced as " The Rev. 
Dr. Blank." Formerly a diploma was a proof of standing 
and of rei^ute ; of learning, character, and ability. In 
many cases it is so now. Many of the pastors of New 
York have well earned the dignity of D. D. Many, 
without any solicitation on their part, or on the part 
of their friends, have received diplomas from prominent 
colleges at home and abroad. Many have declined 
the honor. Many honor the institution by accepting 
it, rather than receive honor from the college. To no 
such men do I now refer. 

COVETED HONORS. 

There is an insane desire to be a D. D. on the part 
of some men. They scramble for it as chickens do for 
corn. The tricks resorted to by politicians to get office 



'J. 



In New York. 265 

are resorted to by men to get a degree. They make 
direct application to the president or to one of the 
trustees. They get up petitions, have them signed by 
their friends, and send them to some college. The 
matter is reduced to a system in this city. Men have 
diplomas who, a few years ago, were in trade, made 
wa irons, were artisans and dentists; who strut round 
with their honors upon them as if the hands of 
the apostles were laid on them. They suggest the 
idea that our colleges, in the bestowment of their 
gifts, imitate the divine economy, in giving "more 
abundant honor to the parts that lack." 

THE SCRAMBLE. 

The season when the annual shower of diplomas 
fall is an exciting one to the aspirant. Candidates for 
the coveted parchments begin to bestir themselves. 
One man has a rich father, or his wife has, A donation 
looms up in the distance. Another has a rich parish- 
ioner, who can, if he will, " remember the college." If 
an aspirant can get a liberal man in his parish to re- 
quest the favor of a D. D., he has a fair chance of suc- 
cess. I have seen men in New York, with the charter 
of a college in their pockets, seeking subscriptions, 
with the promise of a Doctorate in due time. In some 
instances the matter is run as a political measure, and 
a degree goes through college as men get a bill through 
Congress, on the "you help me and I will help you" 
plan. A gentleman holding a government office in 
this city promised a friend that he would get him a 
degree, as he was trustee of a college. In reference to 
the rival claims for the honor, he boasted that he would 



266 Sunshine and Shadow 

get his man through. He drew up a petition, had it 
numerously signed, and pressed it upon the trustees 
with all the zeal of a politician. Sometimes a compro- 
mise is made. An aspirant gives way this year to a 
more pressing case, with the promise that his turn shall 
come the next season. A person was requested to put 
his name to a petition for a Doctorate for a party 
named. He declined, on the ground that he had just 
signed one for another gentleman who was about 
changing his denomination. " Your friend must hold 
over for another year," he added. 

A RACE. 

Two men some time ago ran quite a race for a degree. 
Each had strong petitions, and was well backed. The 
campaign was as exciting and as sharp as a political 
one. The leading friend on each side was a well- 
trained New York politician. The list on each petition 
was long and imposing. Who would win no one could 
tell. Each of the candidates had a friend in the board. 
It was a ticklish matter to handle. The trustees held 
several meetings, and the debates were very earnest. 
The state of feeling outside of the board was very ex- 
citing. If it had not been a clerical matter, bets would 
have been freely offered, with many takers. The Com- 
mencement exercises began. The outside world did 
not know who was the successful candidate, for the 
secret was well kept. A large crowd was in attend- 
ance. The point at which degrees were conferred 
was reached. Silence pervaded the great throng. The 
president quietly said, " The board will confer no 
honorary degrees this year." The announcement was 



In New York. 267 

received with a hearty, universal laugh, indicating the 
interest of the audience in the matter. At the concki- 
sion, each of the rivals was saluted with, " How are 
you. Doctor ? " One man in this state, who preaches 
on Sunday to less than fifty people, who is understood 
to run his machine, as it'is called, to aid his stock and 
other speculations, who has made some money on Wall 
Street, advertises himself as a D. D. His diploma is 
said to have come from a small, poor college, in a distant 
part of the land. 

" So easily are Doctors made, 
By man's or woman's whim." 

At a dinner of the alunmi of a celebrated college, 
held on a time in New York, a letter w^as read from 
an eminent western professor, charging the institution 
with selling its degrees to men Avho, in character, po- 
sition, and talent were a disgrace to it, and accusing 
the college of bartering its honors for so much cash. 



268 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXIX. 

FERNANDO WOOD. 

HIS START. — HIS PIOUS ROLE. — THE INAUGURAL. — HE WINS OVER THB 
PUBLIC. — ASSUMES HIS REAL CHARACTER. — PERSONAL. 

HIS START. 

From the lowest social position, Mr. Wood became 
Mayor of New York. When put in nomination, it was 
a measuring cast between the mayor's office and a con- 
vict's cell. He pleaded the statute of limitations. Had 
the proceedings against him commenced a few hours 
earlier, the statute would have been pleaded in vain. 
Having been the keeper of a low groggery himself, his 
strength lay with the desperate classes of the city. To 
elect himself, he appealed to the lowest of men, and to 
the vilest grade of New York voters. He was nomi- 
nated when corruption in the city government was the 
most fearful. Nothing was safe. The vilest men were 
in power. The public finances were controlled by 
those whom the citizens of New York would not have 
trusted with a five-dollar note. The authorities and 
the rascals hunted in couples. The nomination of 
Fernando Wood deepened the gloom, and extended 
the feeling of general distrust. No man was ever more 
earnestly opposed. The newspapers were full of his 



In New York. 269 

past conduct and alleged crimes. The religious press, 
in trumpet tones, called upon the citizens to defeat 
him. The pulpit lifted up its voice in prayer and 
alarm at the great evil that was impending over the 
city. By the aid of the united vote of the foreign 
population, the keepers of dens, brothels, and low 
groggeries, blended with the power of party nomina- 
tion, Mr. Wood was elected. 

HIS PIOUS ROLE. 

His proclamations, speeches, and promises gave the 
lie to the electioneerinsz; stories. He turned his back 
on his associates who elected him. He joined the 
party of reform. He promised great things. All cor- 
ruption was to be checked, and economy to pervade 
the administration of the government. The laws in 
relation to dram-selling should be enforced, and the 
Sabbath be kept. The people in New York were 
entitled to the best government in the land, and they 
should have it. Between the election and tlie inauo-ural 
Mr. Wood astonished friend and foe. An omnibus pro- 
prietor sent him a season ticket. He sent it back, 
stating that he intended to see the laws of New York 
enforced, and could not be holden to any party. He 
saw a policeman reading a newspaper while a crowd 
were gathered around a fallen omnibus horse. The 
mayor elect asked the name of the policeman. He re- 
fused to give it, and Mr. Wood took down his number. 
" What do you want my name for ? " the policeman 
said. "You are bound to give it to any one who asks, 
without a reason," was the reply. The name was 
given with evident reluctance. As Mr. Wood was 



270 Sunshine and Shadow 

turning away, the officer said, " You have asked my 
name, now give me ^^ours." " Fernando Wood is my 
name," said the mayor elect, " and I will see you at the 
City Hall on the 1st of January next." The police- 
man gave a long whistle, and departed. The friends 
of public order, of the Sabbath, of sound morals, tem- 
perance, and religion were astounded at the conduct 
of the new chief^ and thought that the millennium 
was not far off. 

THE INAUGURAL. 

The proclamation with which Mr. Wood began his 
reign as mayor fell on the city like a bombshell. For 
a time the reforms promised in it were not merely in 
name. The police, who had for years loafed round the 
City Hall, surrounded by a troop of smokers, tobacco- 
chewers, and eaters of peanuts ; bullies and black- 
guards, prize-fighters, pot-house politicians, who had 
made the City Hall their headquarters, to the disgust 
of decent people, — Avere informed that their reign was 
over, and that they must abdicate. On the inaugura- 
tion of their favorite candidate, they were ready to 
congratulate him by renewing their visits to the City 
Hall. He was the people's candidate, and the people 
had elected him in spite of the aristocrats, who had 
tried hard to send him to the State's Prison. He was 
a Democrat of the Democrats, the standard-bearer of 
the Bowery Boys, the Fourth Warders, and of the 
Bloody Sixth. Former mayors, who had represented 
the respectability, decency, and morality of the city, 
were accessible to all during- business hours. In the 
central room in the City Hall, surrounded with clerks, 
sitting at his low desk, the mayor could usually be 



In New York. 271 

seen. All this was too clemocmtic for Fernando Wood. 
He had an ofhce elegantly fitted up in the rear. He 
called it the Major's Private Office. Into this he re- 
treated, and the doors were guarded by policemen. 
Bullies and Short Boys, who for years had the run of 
the City Hall, going in and out of the mayor's office 
when they pleased, were astounded to find " Fernandy " 
putting on airs, and closing his door in the face of the 
men who put him into power. They resolved to beard 
him in his new den. They were met at the door by a 
well-dressed official, who informed them, in decided 
tones, that the mayor was engaged. They could do 
nothinu; but retire, mutterino; venoceance. The old 
mayor's room was a disgrace. Under Mr. Wood it was 
cleansed, the ceilings elegantly painted, the floor car- 
peted, and pictures hung on the wall ; the desks fell 
back in a line ; confusion and tumult ceased ; men came 
only on business, quietly did it, and went away. A 
portion of the citizens were jubilant over the new 
order of things. A portion were surprised, and knew 
not what to make of it. Some resolved to resist the 
despot in the City Hall. Mr. Wood carried things 
with an iron rule. He enforced the laws as they had 
not been enforced for half a century. He opened a 
complaint book, and invited all the citizens who had 
grievances to present them, and they should be at- 
tended to. The slightest breach of discipline was 
punished. If an officer came into the mayor's office 
without his official coat, he was ordered out, and told if 
he repeated the offence he would be dismissed. Men 
in the chief offices of the City Hall resolved to rebel. 
They did not like their new chief, and said they would 



272 Sunshine and Shadow 

not be j?o worked or so governed. "Wood got the 
names of the chief men in this conspiracy. He laid 
the charge to them, and told them coolly that he would 
carry out his reform against all opposition, if he was 
obliged to call out the entire military force of the city. 

HE WINS OVER THE PUBLIC. 

A man with such a reputation as Mr. Wood brought 
with him into office, whose election and inaugural were 
regarded with terror and dismay, would be closely 
watched while in office. When he avowed himself the 
champion of good order, of the enforcement of law and 
sound morals, not only New York, but the nation was 
jubilant. No public man, since the days of General 
Jackson, was so popular. He held a daily levee in his 
private room. Judges, justices, and lawyers, from all 
parts of the country, sought his acquaintance. The 
clergy preached about him, and prayed for him. The 
press lauded him ; lauded his executive ability, his cour- 
age, and the grand administration he was giving to 
New York, Men who had clamored, before his inau- 
guration, for his incarceration in prison, took him by 
the hand, confessed their sins, and wished him God 
speed. The grand jury, who had been ready to indict 
him, now spoke his praise. Great religious societies 
passed him votes of thanks. To a committee who 
presented him these compliments he said, " I am only 
doing my duty. New York pays enough to be well 
governed, and she shall be. The Sunday laws shall be 
enforced, and I am resolved to mve New York such 
Sabbaths as she deserves. When I cannot do this, I 
shall resign." He won over the temperance men and 



In New York. 273 

the clergy. He was a member of St. George, of which 
Dr. Tyng was pastor. Strangers crowded the church 
on Sunday to see the great man of the age. At a 
great temperance meeting, Dr. Tyng, his pastor, spoke 
in behalf of Mr. Wood, while the audience cheered 
every sentence. Said the doctor, "I know intimately 
the noble man who is at the head of the citv. He is a 
true man. He is a member of my congregation. You 
may be assured that he will take no backward steps." 
A great meeting was held at the Tabernacle. The 
Hutchinsons composed a song in honor of the mayor, 
which was sung amid a tempest of applause. One 
verse of it ran as follows : — 

" Our city laws are pretty good, 

Nowadays, nowadays, 
When put in force by Mr. Wood, 
Nowadays, nowadays." 

His name became a terror to evil-doers. It was a 
tower of strength to good government in all the cities 
in America. A passenger stopped a train in Michigan, 
seized a desperate pickpocket Avho threatened to cut 
his throat, and, single-handed, ejected him from the 
cars, and started the train, the people shouting, " That 
must be Mayor Wood ! " Hundreds of letters were 
received at the mayor's office, describing crime and 
wickedness that existed in other cities, and calling 
upon Mr. Wood to come and put a stop to the evil. It 
was thought he could work anywhere. 

18 



274 . Sunshine and Shadow 



ASSUMES HIS REAL CHARACTER. 

It is difficult to ascribe a reason for Mr. Wood's 
course during the first six months of his official life. 
Why he inspired such hopes in the heart of the friends 
of good government, order, and reform ; why he turned 
his back on his old friends and old principles for that 
brief term, — it is difficult to understand. That he was 
not sincere, that his principles and conduct were not 
changed, his subsequent acts sufficiently proved. That 
he made himself immensely popular is unquestionable. 
Had he really turned over a new leaf, been in heart 
what he professed to be, governed New York during 
his whole term as he governed it the first six months, 
he would have had a social and political standing that 
would have been exceeded by none Of the noble men 
whose names are revered by New York. Any office in 
the state or nation that he desired would have been 
opened to him. When he went back to his old friends 
and his old ways he made the mistake of a lifetime. 
The farce was soon ended. The predictions preceding 
his election were more than realized, — among the bold, 
bad rulers of New York he would be the chief The 
police under his hands became so corrupt that the laws 
were changed to take away his power. The united 
populace, without distinction of party, cyied to the 
Legislatirre for relief A commission was. sent down to 
rule the city. Rioters resisted the law, their head- 
quarters being in the mayor's office. Mr. Wood led 
the old police to resist the city government unto blood. 
The Seventh Regiment were called out to serve a civil 
process on the mayor. The mayor was reduced to a 



In New York. 275 

mere walking gentleman, whose chief business consists 
in drawing his salary once a month. 

PERSONAL. 

Mr. Wood is about sixty years of age. His hair is 
dark, but his mustache snowy white. He is tall, slim, 
and very erect. 'However well he is dressed, there is 
always a seedy look about him, such as marks a well- 
dressed loafer. He wears black, has a clerical look, and 
Avould be mistaken anywhere for a professor in college. 
He has a perpetual smile on his face, which, cold and 
hollow, is well described by the word smirk. He dresses 
evidently with care, and with as much taste as he can 
command. He makes up well, has been carefully pre- 
served, and before he allowed his gray mustache to 
grow looked scarcely forty years of age. There is an 
insincerity about him, which you feel whenever he 
speaks to you. In his dress and deportment he shows 
his shrewdness. He has nothing to hope for but from 
the debased of New York. To them he caters. His 
careful array and sanctified demeanor are the secret 
of his power. AYood understands human nature. The 
vile and ignominious want a champion, but they do not 
want him to look vile and iy-nominious. Thev want 
him to dress and walk with the best. They point to 
him when he is in public, and say, " That's our champi- 
on. He is as smart and genteel, as handsomely dressed, 
and behaves himself as well, as any of them." Wood 
understands this well. When he goes among his con- 
stituents in the lower parts of New York he goes well 
made up. His black frock coat, buttoned up to the 
throat, displays his lithe and genteel form to advantage. 



276 Sunshine and Shadow 

His hat, of the latest style, is well brushed and glossy. 
His boots, of the newest fashion, are polished like a 
mirror. His gloves fit the hand, and, with a small 
switch or walking cane, he moves round among the pur- 
lieus of the city like a person from another world. So 
his constituents receive him. He is civil and bland, but 
icy. He speaks to the women ; pats the little, dirty 
urchins on the head with his dainty fingers ; holds his 
levees in beer saloons and Dutch groceries, and drinks 
lager with his friends out of the rude mugs, as if he 
was tippling champagne at the St. Nicholas. Every- 
where he wears the same bland, treacherous smile ; 
everywhere he is the same wily treacherous politician. 



mmm^r^^ 




In New York. 277 



XXX. 

TRINITY CHURCH CORPORATION. 

THE WEALTH OF TKINITT. — AS A PARISH. — THE YOUNG RECTOR. — TRIXITT 

SERVICES. 

The Dutch settled the Island of Manhattan, and were 
the lords of the soil. They persecuted nobody. They 
welcomed all sects and conditions of men, stipulating 
only that their own customs, sacred and religious, 
should not be meddled with. The worship of the Dutch 
was in the lano;uao;e of Holland, but their talk and 
traffic were in English. A few Episcopalians, who came 
over early, found New York a genial soil. They opened 
worship in the English language. To the great sorrow 
of the Dutch, their children ran off to the Episcopal 
Church, because the worship was in English. Yet the 
Episcopalians were made welcome, and were allowed to 
occupy the Dutch Church one half of the Lord's Day. 
As a separate parish. Trinity was organized in 1697. 
Their house of worship was a small, square edifice, with 
a steeple. Pews were assigned to worshi})pers accord- 
ing to rank. There was the " Governor's Pew," the 
" Bachelor's Pew," the "Housekeeper's Pew," " Pew for 
Masters of Vessels ; " and others are specially named. 



278 Sunshine and Shadow 



THE WEALTH OF TRINITY. 

It is difficult to estimate the wealth of this corpora- 
tion. It is estimated at from forty to a hundred millions. 
It originated with a farm, in the then upper part of 
New York, now in the centre of business, which was 
leased by the governor to Trinity Church. Subsequentr 
ly one of the governors of the colony gave it to Trinity 
Church in fee. The papers were sent across the w\aters 
for ajDproval, but the home government refused to 
ratify the act of the governor. In the Revolution the 
estate became the property of the state. It got back 
into the hands of Trinity ; but New York has a claim 
which has never been settled, that may cause some 
trouble by and by. 

Nearly all this form is now covered with the most 
elegant and costly buildings of New York, and the 
property held by Trinity, as a whole, is in parts of the 
city where the land is most valuable. It lies on Broad- 
way, between the Battery and Fourteenth Street, and 
spreads out like a fan. It embraces whaf ves, ferries, 
dock privileges, and depots ; immense blocks on Broad- 
way, of marble, granite, iron, and brown-stone ; splendid 
stores, hotels, theatres, churches, and private mansions. 
The most costly and splendid buildings in New York 
stand on leased ground, and the owners pay a ground- 
rent. Leases usually run for twenty-one years, contain- 
ing several renewals on a new valuation. A Trinity 
Church lease, with its peculiar privileges and covenants, 
is one of the most desirable titles in the city. 



Ln New York. 279 



AS A PARISH. 

Trinity is a close corporation. Its vast property is 
managed by a vestry of five persons, who have plenipo- 
tentiary power. Trinity is the Cathedial of America. 
Attached to it are three chapels in different parts of 
New York — St. Panl's, St. John's, and Trinity. It 
has a rector and c'vAit assistants. The house of wor- 
ship is, the most costly and grand on the island. Daily 
services are held, and a choir of surpliced boys sing. 
Her great tower fronts "Wall Street ; it contains a chime 
of bells, that ring out the hours, halves, and quarters, 
announcing to the worshippers of Mammon how 
passes life. 

THE YOUNG RECTOR. 

The first position the church has to offer, superior in 
influence to that of a bishop, is that of rector. This 
official controls the immense revenues of the church. 
Dr. Berrian, the old rector, held his position for a great 
many years. Quite a number of the old ministers were 
looking for his place when he should depart. Among 
the number was young Mr. Dix, son of General Dix. 
He still looks like a college student. He had tact, 
energy, and executive ability. Dr. Berrian was very 
old, and could do but little business. The assistant 
ministers took their ease, and did not care about hard 
work. The laboring oar was put into the hand.>^ of 
young Dix. He seemed to like nothing better. Ever}'- 
thing was done by him in time, and done well. He 
arranged the business that came before the vestry, 
drew the papers, and kept everything as systematic as 
a bank. The assistant ministers were very glad to have 



280 Sunshine and Shadow 

young Dix do the work, and the old rector found it 
very convenient to have a young, smart assistant on 
■whom he could rely. 

The charter of Trinity allowed the appointment of 
an assistant rector. The position had been vacant for 
twenty-five years. To the surprise of everybody, Dr. 
Berrian nominated young Dix to that vacant position. 
The whole matter was a secret till the nomination was 
made. The seven assistants saw in the movement a 
successor to Dr. Berrian. They opposed the nomina- 
tion, and asked for delay. The fact that Mr. Dix was 
youngest in years, and youngest in orders, was pointed 
out. But the nomination was confirmed and accepted 
on the spot, and Mr. Dix became, in fact, the rector of 
Trinity. On the death of Dr. Berrian, Mr. Dix was 
unanimously elected rector, and was at once inducted 
into office, without audience, without music, without 
relisious service. But few of the assistant ministers 
were present. With the wardens, the rector walked 
from the vestry to the north porch, and from theuce to 
the main entrance. Here the keys were handed to 
him, — an emblem of authority, — and the ceremony 
ended. The salary of the rector and of the assistants 
is any sum they may need. Annexed is a fine house 
well furnished, holiday gifts, tour in Europe, provision 
for wife and children if the husband dies, and a set- 
tlement for life. A minister of Trinity has a metro- 
politan fame, and distant dioceses often send to Trinity 
for their bishops. 



In New York. 281 



TRINITY SERVICES. 

The choral service is one of the specialities of Old 
Trinity. It was introduced, in its present order, by 
Dr. Cutler, who succeeded Dr. Hodge as organist. A 
choir of boys was introduced in connection with the 
voices of men ; the whole, dressed in white surplices, 
make quite a show in the chancel. The distance of 
the great organ over the main entrance from the choir 
made it necessary to introduce a chancel organ, which 
was opened with great ceremony. Not the least curi- 
ous was the presence of an old organist, who, over sixty 
years ago, played the first chant that was introduced 
into the Episcopal Church in this country. So strange 
was the performance, that the authorities of St. John's 
Chapel were outraged by the innovation. The vestry 
formally waited upon Bishop Hobart, and demanded 
that he should put a stop to such outlandish music. So 
little were chants understood or enjoyed even in the 
Episcopal Church at that day ! The bishop declined to 
interfere, and chants became popular. The choral 
service is very taking. Everything is sung in the ser- 
vice that can be sung — the Psalter, the Creed, as well 
as other parts of the service. The people are mere 
spectators. The ministers and choir within tlie chancel- 
rail have it all to themselves. The music is very dif- 
ficult, and it is sung in such rapid time that an un- 
trained voice cannot keep up. The service opens on 
Sunday with a thronged house — aisles and vestibules 
full. The crowd remains till the sin":insr is over and 
tiie sermon begins. Then it disperses, as if tlic per- 
formance was complete. It is very difficult to hear the 



282 Sunshine and Shadow 

officiating ministers in Trinity. Most that they say, so 
far as the people are concerned, might almost as well 
be said in a Latin tongue. There is scarcely a good 
reader or speaker in the whole force of Trinity. The 
utterances are indistinct, and the tone low^, as if the 
reader did not care whether the persons in the house 
heard or not. 

At the opening service the leader of the music comes 
out of the robing-room dressed in a black gown, followed 
by about forty or fifty boys and men in surplices. 
The rector leads, followed by a train of clergy in white 
robes. On the opening of the vestry door the audience 
rise, and keep on their feet till the procession move 
into the chancel and are seated. The priest intones 
the service after the manner of the Catholic Church. 
The preacher for the day is escorted from the vestry to 
the pulpit by the sexton, who waits at the foot of the 
stairs till the minister is seated. The rector of Trinity 
is thoroughly High Church. He introduces into the 
services all the pomp, display, and ritualism that Epis- 
copacy will permit. He models his service in as close 
imitation of the Catholic worship as the steady Prot- 
estantism of New York will bear. 



In New York. 283 



XXXI. 

CONSPIRACY AGAINST PRESIDENT 

LINCOLN. 

THE PRESIDENT IN THE CITY. — THE CONSPIRATORS. — FEELING IN WASH- 
INGTON. PLOT DISCOVERED. VISIT TO MR. LINCOLN. 

THE PRESIDENT IN THE CITY. 

The attention of the people of New York was called 
to Mr. Lincoln in 1860. He was announced to deliver 
a political address in Cooper Institute. The audience 
was fair, but the room was by no means full. He was 
a remarkable looking man, — decidedly western, tall, 
lank, and bony, with an enormous neck, that shot up 
from a low, turned-down collar, hair apparently un- 
combed, his dress slouchy and countrified, his oratory 
uninviting; and the impression he made was not very 
marked. A gentleman called upon him at his rooms 
in the Astor, and knocking at the door, received an in- 
vitation to " come in." He found Mr. Lincoln just in 
the act of putting on his shirt. Without the slightest 
embarrassment, he asked the visitor to be seated, while 
he continued his work, adding, " We must do this or go 
dirty." On his way to Washington, after his election 
to the Presidency, his friends received him with all 
honor in the city, and escorted him to the Astor House, 



284 Sunshine and Shadow 

where rooms were provided for him. Here he received 
all comers with afilibility. and displayed those genial 
traits of character which made him so humorous and 
entertainins: in the White House. He brouo;ht with 
him, from his western home, his simple and unaffected 
habits. The cares of state sat easily upon him. He 
put on no airs. He saw no reason why he should not 
enjoy himself as President, as he did when he was plain 
Abraham Lincoln. At the Astor House he waited on 
himself If he wanted a thino; he went after it. He 
did the same at Washinu'ton. If he wanted to see Mr. 
Seward or Mr. Stanton, instead of sending for those 
officials, he put on his hat and ran over to the Depart- 
ment, as he would have run to a brother lawj'er's office 
in Illinois, He went the rounds of the Departments in 
the evening. If missed from his office, those in the 
secret could track him from point to point till he was 
found. 

Politicians crowded on him while he was in New 
York. The man who was fortunate enousch to s-et hold 
of him was sure of a patient auditor till he closed. 
It was so during all of his official life. If a case was 
commended to his attention he would hear it throuo'h. 
Men beset him in his private walks ; headed him off 
while on horseback ; hid behind trees, to fall upon him 
as he passed along, knowing that if they could but 
speak to him he would give them a patient hearing 
until they were through. 



In New York. 285 



THE CONSPIRATORS. 

Among the visitors at the White House was a person 
•very notorious in New York, with whom no reputable 
woman would willingly be seen on Broadway. He had 
travelled much in Europe ; by what means few could 
tell. Those not acquainted with his inner life could 
be easily imposed upon by the appearance and conversa- 
tion of the man. He was very ofiicious in his attention 
to Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln, especially the latter. His fre- 
quent visits to Washington, and his receptions at the 
White House, were noticed by the friends of the 
President. At all of the receptions of Mrs. Lincoln he 
was an early and constant vi^^itor. At the informal re- 
ceptions he was found. No one went so early but this 
person could be seen cosily seated in a chair as if at 
home, talking to the ladies of the White House. None 
called so late but they found him still there. The 
servants of the White House marked his familiarity, 
his comino; and ffoino;. The officials who had the honor 
of the President's mansion in charge felt keenly the 
constant inquiries about the visits of this man. More 
than once, persons from different sections of the country, 
who were annoyed that they could never enter the 
White House without encountering this New Yorker, 
would accost the doorkeeper with questions like these : 
" Do the ladies receive to-night ?" " Yes, sir, at eight 
o'clock." " Are they in the drawing-room ? " " Yes, 
sir." " Has anybod}^ called ? " "I believe a gentleman 
has." " What is his name ? " " He is a gentleman 

from New York, sir." " Is it Mr. ? " (Reluctantly) 

" I believe he is in there, sir." " What is he here at 



286 Sunshine and Shadow 

the White House so much for ? " (With a shrug of 
the shoulders) " I can't say, sir." 

THE FEELING IN WASHINGTON. 

The people in Washington are very proud of the 
chief magistrate's flimily. The house and the Presi- 
dent's grounds are open to all citizens. The receptions, 
levees, drawing-rooms, to which all respectable persons 
have access, suj^ply the place of operas, balls, concerts, 
and lectures. Distinguished persons who visit the 
capital, the delegations sent from all parts of the 
country, the public receptions given by the President, 
bind up the citizens of Washington with the family of 
the chief magistrate. Anything that touches the 
honor or the fame of the White House touches the 
people of the District, as if a shadow had fallen on their 
own homes. The bad repute of the person referred to 
was well known in Washino'ton. His constant visits to 
the mansion were well known, and were the theme of 
general remark. More than once he had been seen 
riding in the President's coach, with the ladies, through 
Pennsylvania Avenue. Frequently he was found loun- 
ging in the conservatory, or smoking in the grounds, 
very much at home, and not at all anxious to hide his 
presence. The public press began to speak out, and 
was not at all complimentary to the President's family. 
Some of the western papers printed articles in relation 
to this matter that were scandalous. Two of the leading 
daily papers of New York had articles of a similar im- 
port. It was evident that soon the scandal would be 
public unless something was done to reassure the pub- 
lic conscience. 



In New York. 287 



PLOT DISCOVERED. 

A few friends of Mr. Lincoln, who believed that the 
whole of this matter was a scheme to strike him through 
his household, and so obtain office and preferment, re- 
solved to probe the matter to the bottom. They col- 
lected the rumors, reduced the scandal to shape, cut 
out from the newspapers the various articles in relation 
to the matter that were going the rounds, and met in 
a quiet manner to see what could be done. I was 
present at that first meeting, when it was resolved, in 
a quiet way, to track these scandals to their source. 
It was easily done. The person whose presence at 
Washington created so much scandal was known to be 
penniless, and in his career must be supported by some 
parties in New York, who were using him as their tool. 
Such was found to be the case. Ostensibly a man 
and woman in the city were his backers. They fur- 
nished him with money and instructions. He was to go 
to Washington, make himself agreeable to the ladies, 
insinuate himself into the White House, attend levees, 
show that he had power to come and go, and, if j^ossi- 
ble, open a correspondence with the ladies of the man- 
sion, no matter how indifferent the subject might be. 
Having obtained influence and tangible proof of his 
standing with the ladies of the White House, his back- 
ers, in due time, would make such use of his influence 
as would prove profitable to them. The wretched tool 
did his work well, and for a time success promised to 
crown his labors. He sent reijular bulletins to New 
York, stating how well he was succeeding in his dirty 
work ; how he visited the mansion ; what was said and 



288 Sunshine and Shadow 

done ; what notes were sent to him, with copies of the 
same ; how he visited the hbrary and private apart- 
ments of the President, rambled through the conserva- 
tory, and outsat all comers at the receptions. 

VISIT TO MR. LINCOLN. 

It was considered that the President should be made 
acquainted with this plot against his honor. I was ap- 
pointed to lay the papers before him. I went to Wash- 
ington, and, in company with a United States senator, 
called at the White House at seven o'clock in the even- 
ing. The vestibule was crowded with people from all 
parts of the country, soldiers and officers. The ante- 
room was crowded with senators and their friends, 
anxious to be introduced to the President. As we ap- 
j)roached the door, the official shook his head, saying, 
" The President is engaged with the Secretary of State, 
and you cannot see him at present." The senator 
belonged to the military department, which at that 
time took precedence of all others. The door opened, 
and we passed in. The President was in his office with 
Mr. Seward and the Secretary of War. The business 
was evidently not as pressing as the official at the door 
imagined. The President was lying off, listening with 
great gusto to a first-class story Mr. Seward w^as relat- 
ing. We heard enough of it to join in the hearty 
laugh at the close. The senator then addressed Mr. 
Seward, saying, " Governor, you have bored the Presi- 
dent long enough. My friend wants to see him on 
some private business, and I want you to talk to me." 
The President took me by the hand, led me into the 
office of his private secretary, whom he drove out, and 



In New York. 289 

locked the door. Taking^ a seat beside me on the sofa, 
his first words were, " Now, what do you want of me ?" 
I stated the purpose of my visit, presented him with the 
extracts cut from the paper reflecting on his family, 
gave him the names of the conspirators, and the sub- 
stance of notes that had passed between the miserable 
tool and his employers, and told him the vagabond was 
at that moment down stairs entertaining his family. 
" Give me those papers," said the President, " and sit 
here till I return." He started out of the room with 
strides that showed an energ}^ of purpose. Shortly 
after he returned, grasped me warml}^ by the hand, and 
led me back into the room, and in company with the 
senator I took my leave. The scorpion was driven 
from the mansion that night, and although he was seen 
once or twice after in the Presidential grounds, and 
was said to be loitering round the conservatory, yet 
he disappeared soon from the mansion, and the plot 
exploded. 

19 



290 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXXII. 

INCIDENTS IN CITY EVANGELIZATION. 



THE NEW YORK CITY MISSION. ORIGIN OF THE WORK. THRILLING INCI- 
DENTS. — TEMPERANCE IN A RUM SALOON. — RESCUE OF THE DESTITUTE. 

A SOLDIER IN TROUBLE. — A YOUNG MAN'S STORY. NOT EASILY 

DISCOURAGED. A MISSIONARY'S DAILY WORK. A FOOL ANSWERED 

ACCORDING TO HIS FOLLY. 



ORIGIN OF THE WORK. 

The New York City Mission, though not under that 
name, was founded February 19, 1827. Into this 
was merged the Young Men's Tract Society, which was 
formed in 1825. Tlie work of the society for two 
years was to supply with tracts the shipping, markets, 
humane and criminal institutions, and the outskirts of 
the city. In June, 1832, a new feature in the work 
was introduced, especially by the lamented Harlan 
Page. It was the concentrated effort and prayer for 
the salvation of individuals. This gave directness and 
efficiency to the society, and missionaries were em- 
ployed to labor in the destitute wards of the city. 
From November, 1834, to 18C6, the number of regular 
missionaries increased from twelve to forty-five. The 
work among the New York poor and neglected has 



In New York. 291 

continued for forty years. The society now employs 
forty-six missionaries, with twenty stations. These 
men. during the past year, have made about one hun- 
dred and twenty thousand visits to the neglected homes 
of the city, have reached fifty-three thousand nine liun- 
dred families, and have distributed nearly two millions 
of tracts in twelve difierent tonij-ues. Walkino; thrOu^'h 
the lanes and bj'-ways of the city, they persuade multi- 
tudes to go to the house of God and to the Sunday 
school. Their work among neglected and vagrant boys 
and girls is very successful. Temporarj' relief has been 
afforded to the needy, and employment found for the 
stranger. Friendless girls — and they are counted by 
thousands — have been led to homes of security and 
protection. Fallen women have been led back to the 
path of rectitude, and over ten thousand have been led 
to attend some place of public worship. Young men 
have been enlisted in the mission work ; religious read- 
ing has been furnished to police stations and the rooms 
of firemen ; and this presents but a feeble view of the 
work of all shades and hues that the lowly demand, and 
these devout and self-denying men perform. 

THRILLING INCIDENTS. 

No book of romance could be made as thrilling as 
one filled with the details of real life among the desti- 
tute poor of New York. Men and women come here 
from all the cities and towns of the Union and the 
world. They come for hope of gain ; to make a for- 
tune ; to get a livelihood, and to hide their characters 
in the wilderness of this great people. Many bring 
with them a little money, and hope to increase their 



292 Sunshine and Shadow 

store. Many are seduced from home by offers of em- 
ployment. Many come under promises of marriage. 
Sickness, bad society, sudden temptation and crime 
plunge them into want. Many sincerely repent, but 
are not able to escape from the mire into which they 
have fallen. The arm of the benevolent and the reli- 
gious must help and rescue the fallen. In the thousands 
of visits that missionaries pay, facts that thrill the heart 
and move the compassion are daily gathered. 

TEMPERANCE IN. A RUM SALOON. 

In a saloon where tracts had been previously left 
without opposition, the keeper said to the assistant, " I 
wish you and your tracts w^ere in hell ; you have made 
my customers crazy ; you have injured my business." 
This was said with oaths and curses. As the visitor left 
the house, a man followed him, who said, " That bar- 
keeper told some truth. I was a hard drinker ; within 
six months I have spent five hundred dollars in his 
house ; but since I read your tracts I have quit drink- 
ing, and spent my time in seeking my soul's salvation." 
He stated that three others had followed his example, 
and they w^ent together to church on the Sabbath. 

As the assistant was crossing the Brooklyn ferry, he 
was accosted by a genteelly-dressed man, who said, " I 
believe you are the person who, in August last, took a 
wretched, bloated drunkard into the mission in Green- 
wdch Street. After he signed the pledge, you gave him 
some clothing, and money to pay his fare to Brooklyn." 
The assistant remembered such a case. " Well," said 
the man, " I am that man. Leaving you, I went to my 
old employer, told him I had signed the pledge, and 



In New York. 203 

j asked him to try me again. AVitli many fears he took 
me back. I thank God tliat by his grace I liave kept 
my pledge, and gained my employer's confidence. I 
am now a member of the church, and an officer in 
the Sabbath school." 

RESCUE OF TPIE DESTITUTE. 

A Christian lady, riding from Newark to New York, 
miet in the cars a girl in distress, and on reaching the 
city, she led her to the mission. The girl's story was 
briefly this : She was a German orphan, sixteen 3- ears 
old, at service in Erie, Pa. Another girl had persuaded 
her to go with her to New York, where, she was told, 
she could live without doino; much work. ILiviuii: 
money on hand, saved from her earnings, she agreed 
to go ; and they started together. At Dunkirk, in the 
changing of cars, they became separated, and this giii 
remained and took the next train. A respectable look- 
ing woman in the same car, seeing her weep, tendered 
her sympathy, and told her she lived in New York, and 
would take her to a good place. On their arrival ut 
Jersey City, she took the cars for Newark, N. J., where 
they put up at a public house, and occupied the same 
j room for the night. When the girl awoke in the 
morning, her money, and her clothing, and her friend 
were gone. She could not leave her room ; she was 
I completely stripped. The wife of the hotel-keeper had 
I compassion on her, and gave her an old dress ami a 
ticket to this city. Her experience among strangers 
had made her anxious to return home. The hauls 
needful to clothe her comfortably and procure a pas- 
sage ticket to Erie were raised, and in a lew days 



2^^ Sunshine and Shadow 

she left for home, grateful that she had been provi- 
dentially saved from ruin. She returned to the family 
she left, and in writing, says, " I think the Lord led me 
to your mission to convert me." 

A SOLDIER IN TROUBLE. 

^ Being requested to visit a needy family, the mis- 
sionary hastened to the place given as their abode. 
Ihis was in an upper room of an old tenant-house. 
On mquiry, he found it to be the flimily of one who 
had fought under the stars and stripes. He had been 
discharged from the service. His wife was confined to 
her bed by sickness, and was so feeble as to be seem- 
ingly but just alive. Three small but interesting chil- 
dren were shivering over a scanty fire. The soldier- 
husband and father acted as nurse and housekeeper. 
His room, both in order and cleanliness, gave evidence 
that he was one of those who could turn his hand to 
almost everything. Generous persons placed means in 
tiie hands of the missionaries for benevolent purposes, 
and the family was relieved. Spiritual as well as^ 
temporal ministrations were thankfully received, and 
the missionary always found a welcome. 

A YOUNG man's STORY. 

"In September, 1857, I left n>y country home to 
eek myfortm^e m the metropoh's of the nation, wilHng 
to work at anything that Providence should place in 
my way, un.umdful what it might be. Upon my arrival 
here the cns.s was just beginning to tell with fearful 
effect upon all classes. Persons in almost every branch 
of mdustry were thrown out of employment, and even 



I 



In Neay York. 295 

the best known and most skilful found it difficult to 
obtain work at the then greatly reduced rates of com- 
pensation. I had previously worked at a trade, but 
leaving before my time had expired I was not entitled 
to a recommendation, nor did I get one. I had recourse 

to Mr. the missionary's kind offices. I called on 

him, stated my case, and after he had listened to my 
story, he concluded to give me a recommendation, in 
substance as follows : — 

" ' This is to certify that I believe to be a faith- 
ful, honest, and industrious boy, and that I take great 
pleasure in recommending him to any person who may 
need his services, feeling satisfied that all work given 
him will be performed to the best of his ability.' 

"With this in my pocket, I again went forth, and 
soon succeeded in obtaining work at the miserable 
pittance of a dollar and a half per week, in a large 
manufactory where they were making a new article, on 
which the profits were at least a hundred per cent. I 
worked there for eighteen months, and the largest sum 
I obtained was two dollars and a half per week. Dunng 
this time my winter evenings were spent in reading 
and at night school, never going to a place of amuse- 
ment of any kind but once in all that time. In this 
way I became more perfect in my education, and when 
fortune smiled on me I found myself reasonably com- 
petent to meet its duties ; and commencing in my posi- 
tion at a salary of nine dollars per week, it has gone on 
increasing until now it is two thousand dollars a year. 
Many times during the last nine years 1 had promised 
myself the pleasure of calling on and thanking the 
kind ^iver of that recommendation, to which I owe my 



296 Sunshine and Shadow 

present success ; but through some means or other my 
good intentions were not carried into execution in 
time to see my generous friend on earth, and I can 
show my gratitude in no better way than in aiding the 
good work in which he was engaged, which I propose 
doing in proportion to my means." 

NOT EASILY DISCOURAGED. 

The quarter just closing has had its usual measure of 
labor, disappointments, and success. A man with very 
bad clothes and worse habits had' the good fortune to 
meet our assistant, who not only supplied his most 
pressing wants, but took him also under the shelter of 
his roof Abusing the kindness of his benefactor, the 
man one day came home intoxicated, and instead of 
turning him from the door, Jason, full of patience and 
benevolence, shut him up in the garret. After much 
salutary counsel and judicious treatment he was in* 
duced to enter the army, where he faithfully served, 
until, being wounded, he was compelled to return. 
Upon his recovery he reenlisted, and, as a member of 
an invalid corps, is still in service. The second time he 
left the city he begged brother Jason to pray for him 
continually — a request that has been faithfully met. 
From time to time he has sent his earnings home, until 
there are five hundred dollars saved. Better than this, 
he has begun to lay up for himself treasure in heaven. 
As he had it in his heart to be a Christian, he thought 
he must stop smoking, and expressive of his determina- 
tion he sent to his friend as vile a package as was ever 
transmitted by express — a quantity of tobacco and the 
stump of an old pipe. In a letter just received, he 



In New York. 297 

says, " You will be glad to know that I sat down to the 
table of our Lord on the first Sabbath in June, having 
made profession of my faith." 

A missionary's daily work. 

Like his experience, the duties of a city missionary 
are at times very peculiar. This is true, at least, when- 
ever he has to convert a butcher's shop into a mission 
station. For example, he begins the day at an early 
hour, and is occupied with things ordinary and ex- 
traordinary until ten. He then goes over to James 
Pyle's to beg a box of soap ; and, glad at the success of 
his errand, he runs two or three blocks on his way bacl^, 
out of mere forii-etfulness. Now he has directions to 
give some workmen waiting to receive him ; a conversa- 
tion with the gas-fitter, and a conference with the car- 
penter, which is presently interrupted by the woman 
who has come to clean, declaring that nothing worth 
naming can be done until the missionary goes to the 
corner grocery for " a scrubbing-brush and five cents' 
worth of washing soda." These procured, it is found 
that there is some whitewashing to be done, and un- 
fortunately there is no one but " the man of all work " 
to do it ; and so, because the work, already too long 
delayed, must not be hindered, nothing is left but for 
the poor missionary to mount an empty dry-goods box 
and swing his brush until two long hours have filled 
him with ftitigue and disgust. But it is twelve o'clock, 
and he has scarcely time for a hasty washing of hands 
and face, the removal of sundry " trade marks " from 
his coat and hat, and the polishing of his boots with a 
newspaper, for he has an appointment shortly after 
noon. 



298 Sunshine and Shadow 

In an upper room a little company is gathered, while 
below a hearse and carnage stand waiting at the door. 
For the days of only one week was the daughter and 
sister visited before death came to put an end to all 
preparation. Looking upon the peaceful form, clad in 
the garments of the grave, where before the violence 
of pain almost prevented the utterance of bodily fear, 
and restless desire, and ardent hope at last, a theme was 
at once suggested, and the missionary found refreshment 
for his own spirit while he endeavored to comfort and 
instruct with thoughts of the happiness of that home, 
and of the nature and importance of the efforts to 
reach it, where the wicked cease from troublins: and 
the weary are at rest. 

A FOOL answered ACCORDING TO HIS FOLLY. 

The missionary has often occasion for all his wits, and 
must sometimes " answer a fool according to his folly." 
On the top floor of a tenement-house in Mott Street 
lives a shoemaker, a hard drinker and a scoffer at reli- 
gious things; but with all this a good-tempered fellow, 
who will bear plain talking. His family, and some girls 
who work with him, are in the habit of attending our 
meetings. One day in November, as the assistant was 
visiting them, wdth an evident design to make sport of 
him and his work, the shoemaker turned upon him, 
saying, " Mr. P , you have made all my family be- 
lieve there is a devil: now, did you ever see him?" 
" 0, yes, sir," said he, " very many times. I can't say I 
ever saw the big old devil — he is too cunning for 
that ; but I have seen a great many little ones. I saw 
one or two just before I came into your house." He 



In Neav York. 299 

wanted to know how they looked. " Well, they were 
very much bloated up, eyes red, face a little peeled and 
bruised, and, phew ! what a breath ! One of them 
seemed to be holding the other up ; and as I came up 
stairs they were holding on to the lamp-post to keep 
from falling." " Well, sir," said he, " I never saw the 
devil, and I'd like to see one." He felt he was in for 
it, that the women were laughing at him behind his 
back, and that he must make as good a fight as he 
could. With that the assistant led him up to his glass, 
saying, " Look there ; you will see the description is all 
right." "Do you mean to call me a devil?" "Now, 
don't get mad ; you know you began it." " That's so," 
said he ; " but I'd like to have you prove I'm a devil." 
"Well, I'll prove you are a little one from Scripture. The 
Savior told the Jews, ' Ye are of your father the devil ; 
the lusts of your father ye will do.' And the apostle 
says, ' Now the works of the flesh ' — that is, of the 
devil — 'are manifest, which are these: adulteries, . . . 
murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like. " With- 
out a word, he turned on his heel, went to his bench, 
and took up his lapstone. "la devil " — rap, rap — 
" proved too by Scripture " — rap, rap — " pretty tough 
that on a fellow " — rap, rap, rap. His wife has told us 
he has not taken a drop since of any kind of hquor, 
not even beer. 



300 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXXIII. 
POLICEMEN ON TRIAL. 

NEED OF DISCIPLINE. — MR. ACTON AS A JUDGE. — TRIALS IN THE COURT- 
ROOM. — HUMOR AND AVIT. — TRYING THE COMPLAINANT. — A PANEL- 
THIEF. 

NEED OF DISCIPLINE. 

To enforce discipline, a court is held every Wednes- 
day at headquarters. Here from fifty to a hundred 
patrolmen are arraigned and tried every week. The 
trial is conducted, in some respects, with the formality 
of a court. The defendant is duly cited to appear ; he 
is served with a copy of the charges against him, and 
the names of witnesses to be examined. Most of the 
charges are very frivolous — such as sitting down when 
on duty ; reading a paper ; standing in doorways ; 
stopping on the streets to talk ; off his beat ; going 
into a house, a bar-room, or a dram-shop ; appearing 
without gloves; neglecting to try the doors to see if 
they are unfastened ; not responding to the sergeant's 
rap ; being too long in patrolling his post. It is the 
duty of the inspectors to follow up the men, watch 
them, detect them in little errors, and report them for 
trial. The ef&ciency of the force demands this. 



In New York. 301 



MR. ACTON AS A JUDGE. 

In the third story of the building nsed as the head- 
quarters, the court-room is located. It is a large, well- 
lighted, well-ventilated room, with seats for about a 
hundred, a bench for the court, with ample accommo- 
dations for the press and for visitors. At ten o'clock 
court opens. The trials are held by Mr. Acton, the 
president of the j)olice commission. The other mem- 
bers occasionally attend and look on, but Mr. Acton has 
the labor of the trial upon himself He is judge, jury, 
district attorney, and counsel for the defence. He is a 
small man, wiry and nervous, with hair prematurely/' 
gray, which he wears cut close to his head like a prize- 
fighter. He is prompt and rapid in the despatch of 
business, and can try and dispose of a hundred cases 
during the day. Lawj^'ers are seldom employed, as 
policemen find they can get along much better by 
telling their own story in a simple and direct manner. 
When lawyers attend, no hair-splitting is allowed ; no 
quibbles, no legal subterfuges, no objection to this 
testimony or that because it does not conform to legal 
rules. The court is one of equity. The officer who 
arraigns the patrolman tells his story in his own way ; 
and the defendant tells his story, brings up his wit- 
nesses, and the case is disposed of at once. A short- 
hand reporter takes down every word of the testimony, 
and this is submitted to the full board before a decision 
is rendered. Mr. Acton has been in the force eight 
years. He prepared himself for his present duties by 
a close attendance on the police trials at the Tombs, 
especially on Sunday morning. He is very shrewd 



302 Sunshine and Shadow 

and talented. He is very adroit in putting questions. 
He can break a nice-laid scheme, expose a well-told 
story, and bring the truth out by two or three sharp 
questions ; and the work he does in a day would take 
an ordinary court a week to discharge. Out of two 
thousand men on the police, all are not saints ; and to 
do fairly by the city, and justly by the men arraigned, 
a judge must have a cool head, ready wit, be prompt 
and decided, be a good judge of human nature, and 
have strong; common sense. 

TRIALS IN THE COURT-ROOM. 

Half an hour before the court opens, the room is all 
alive. Officers and men and witnesses fill it full. The 
captains, in full uniform, take the seat of honor w^ithin 
the ironrailino". The serii-eants have chairs outside the 
railing, and the men huddle together on the benches. 
The clerk comes in with an armful of 3^ellow envelopes, 
which contain the sworn complaints. Promptly on 
time Mr. Acton takes his seat, and, wuthout any for- 
mality, calls out the names of the defendant, the com- 
plainant, and the witnesses. The defendant steps 
forward, the charge is read in two or three lines : " Off 
duty for two or three hours." The testimony is taken. 
" How is that ? " is put to the defendant. He makes 
his statement, brings up his witnesses if he has any, 
and the next case is called before the witness has really 
done speaking. During the trial Mr. Acton gives 
sound advice, words of caution, admonitions and threats. 
To turbulent men he has a loud, harsh, sharp tone, that 
rasps like a file. Generally he is tender and candid, 
and has much patience. If he thinks the officers are 



In New York. 303 

hard on the men, he defends the men. Conspiracies 
are often formed to break men ; but such plans are not 
only frustrated, but are usually exposed, by the keen 
dissecting-knife that lays bare the motives. 

HUMOR AND WIT. 

t 

There is a great deal of humor in these trials, and 
half a day can be spent very pleasantly in seeing how 
justice is administered to the guardians of the city. A 
witness is called upon. " State what you know." The 
policeman asks a question, but dislikes the answer. 
Mr. Acton says, " You asked the question : you must 
take the answer he gives you." Four witnesses testify 
that a policeman took ten dollars, and let a 2)risoner 
go. The 23oliceman denies it. " They all lie, do they ? " 
Mr. Acton says. A man is arraigned for talking twenty 
minutes. " Too long, Brown, too long. You must 
learn to tell shorter stories, or police business won't 
agree with you." To one who is charged with coming 
out of a brewery, this admonition is given : " You must 
keep out of breweries, or keep out of the station-house." 
One man was off duty catching a goat. " Let the goats 
alone, and attend to your business," is the rebuke. In 
answer to the charge of being off duty, a policeman 
said he went into a house to look after a drunken man. 
" Let drunken men remain in the house when they are 
in it; you have no business with them there." Two 
officers were brought up for quarrelling: one pulled 
the other's nose. " Pretty business," he says, " for 
policemen ! The city pays you twelve hundred dollars 
a year to keep the peace, and the first thing you do is 
to no and break it." But some one said, "They shook 



o 



04 Sunshine and Shadow 



hands afterwards." " Well," said Mr. Acton, " that is 
an improvement on prize-fighting. Prize-fighters shake 
hands before they go into the fight, but seldom when 
they come out of it. What shall I do to the man who 
pulled your nose ? " " Don't break him, sir," the com- 
plainant says. A policeman is accused of coming out 
of a bakery. He went there to get some coffee. " Did 
you get it ? " " Yes, sir." " Well, two days' pay off" 
for that." Another is accused of not trying the doors 
on his beat, to see if they were fastened. He denies 
the charge of neglect, but undertakes to split hairs on 
the charge that he neglected to try all his doors. In 
sharp tones the president says, " Don't play any of 
your fine points ; don't try any of j'our dodges here. 
You confessed your neglect of duty, and I shall punish 
you for what you do neglect, not for what you don't." 
One is seen coming out of a dram-shop. He makes 
some frivolous excuse. He knows that it will go hard 
with him, as the president shakes his head, and says, 
" You will learn to keep out of rum-shops by and by." 
" Keep on your post, Mr. Brown," is said to another. 
" Off your post, eh ? Went to get some coffee ? That's 
the dearest cup of coffee you've drank this year. No 
coffee on duty." " Couldn't be found on your post for 
two hours ! You might as well be in Harlem. You 
had better seek some other business." " Don't know 
the limit of your post? Go and find out : don't bring 
that excuse here again for being off duty." " Jones, 
you must get a new coat before you come here again. 
It will do for me to wear such a coat as that, not you." 
A man comes up and whispers to Mr. Acton. In a loud 
tone Mr. Acton says, " This man requests that the 



In New York. 305 

name of some ladies who have broiiixht cliarsres acrainst 
poKcemen may be kept out of tlie papers. I tell him 
I don't run newspapers, and have no control over 
them. I have been trying these eight years to keep 
my own name out ,of the paper, but I haven't suc- 
ceeded." " You're a nice vounu; ij-entleman," Mr. Acton 
says to another ; " you desert your post without leave. 
This is the third time you have been before me lately. 
You had better take your buttons off, and carry them 
to the station. Police business don't agree with your 
constitution." No member of the force is allowed to 
be in debt. To one ao-ainst whom this charg^e is 
preferred, Mr. Acton says, " Go home, settle that mat- 
ter before you sleep, and report to me to-morrow 
morning." And so the trial proceeds till the yellow 
envelopes are exhausted, and every one has had a 
hearing. 

TRYING THE COMPLAINANT. 

The humorous part of the trial usually takes place in 
the afternoon. The mornino; trials are for breaches 
of discipline, preferred by inspectors, captains, or 
ser£»:eants. But the trials in the afternoon are on com- 
plaints preferred by citizens who consider themselves 
aggrieved, abused, or wronged by the police. In nine 
cases out of ten the investigation proves that the com- 
plainants were in the wrong, and the policemen right. 
The members of the force humorously call the after- 
noon trials, " Trying the complainant." The charge 
is usually based on alleged abuse of citizens ; refusing 
to make arrests ; beating with the club ; assaulting 
women ; levying black-mail ; allowing stores to be 
broken open on their beat, and other charges. After 
20 



306 Sunshine a;^d Shadow 

the complainant has told his story, the officei^ tells his ; 
and usually, if a man has been beaten, it was because 
he resisted the officer. Women make complaints of 
brutal treatment, brino^ ten or twenty witnesses to 
show how excellent their charac.ter is, cry in court 
over the wrongs done their feelings by arrest, and get 
the sympathy of the crowd. But when the captain 
comes up, and testifies that they were both drunk and 
disorderly in the station-house the night before, and 
filled the room with profanity and obscenity, the women 
find themselves exposed, often shout out imprecations^ 
and tlaunt out of the room. 

A PANEL-THIEF. 

The panel-thieving business is almost entirely in the 
hands of black women. They carry on their trade so 
adroitly that it is difficult to discover their where- 
abouts, or to detect them at their business. They 
make frequent complaints against the police. One 
of them appeared before the connnissioner the other 
day — a very good-looking and intelligent mulatto 
woman. She was a poor washerwoman, she said, and 
quietly maintained herself and family. While she was 
washing, one day, a policeman came and took her to 
the station-house, without giving her time to lock her 
doors. The policeman afterwards searched her house, 
and carried away some keys which a gentleman left 
there. She also asserted that her house was robbed in 
consequence of the doors being left unlocked. The 
evidence showed that she was one of the most notori- 
ous panel-thieves in New York. The "keys which 
the gentleman left " proved to be keys and tools of 



In New York. . 307 

burglars, which the pohceman exhibited, together with 
the locks and bolts used in panel-thieving, at the sight 
of which the complainant set up a howl, went off into 
a nicelv-arranged hysteric fit, and was dragged by the 
inexorable policeman out of the court-room, to recover 
at her leisure. 

For neglect of duty, breaches of discipline, improper 
behavior, insulting or discourteous conduct, all rude- 
ness or unnecessary severity, the policemen are 
promptly arrested, tried, and punished. The penalty 
varies from the deduction of a day's pay to suspension 
or dismissal. So far as the court is concerned, this trial 
is final. There is no appeal, there is no rehearing, 
there is no review. If a man is unjustly cut off, he 
can only be reinstated by being readmitted, as if he had 
never been on the force. The commissioners sustain 
the men in an honest and fearless discharge of their 
duty, even though sometimes they make mistakes. If 
they arrest a man wrongfully, or in the zealous dis- 
charge of dut}'^ go unintentionally beyond the law, the 
commissioners step in and shield the policeman, taking 
the blame upon themselves. Every encouragement is 
held out to the men to become efficient members of the 
force. Their behavior, their dress, their attention to 
orders, sobriety and promptness in the discharge of 
dut}^, surely lead to promotion. The rigid discipline 
of the force after a time ceases to be an annoyance. 
The general superintendent, in his late report, in speak- 
ing of discipline, says, — 

" It produces a feeling of pride when allusion is made 
to the efficiency of the force, and to the high degree 
of discipline it has attained. Officers and men alike 



308 Sunshine and Shadow 

are entitled to the highest commendation. There 
seems to be among them a general anxiety to excel in 
personal deportment, neatness of attire, and proficiency 
in military acquirement. The fidelity with which the 
various duties that devolve upon them are performed 
entitles the members of the force, with inconsiderable 
exceptions, to our special approbation." 



In New York. 309 



xxxiy. 

GENERAL CHARLES STETSON AND 
THE ASTOR HOUSE. 

ORIGIN OF THE ASTOR HOUSE. — NEW YORK AROUND THE ASTOR. — GENERAL 
STETSON AND THE ASTOR. — THIRTY YEARS OF HOTEL LIFE. — MR. JONES 
THE BAGGAGE MAN. — ROOM NUMBER ELEVEN THURLOW WEED's NEW 

YORK HOME. MK. WEED's EARLY CAREER. SECRET OF HIS POWER. 

HUMANE. AN INCIDENT. PERSONAL. MR. WEBSTER AT THE ASTOR 

HOUSE. AN INCIDENT. MR. WEBSTER's BIRTHDAY. BALTIMORE NOJII- 

NATION. MR. WEBTSER AND GENERAL TAYLOR. 

ORIGIN OF THE ASTOR HOUSE. 

Tins celebrated hotel stands on the site where its 
founder lived during the greater part of his active busi- 
ness life. Li the year 1824 John Jacob Astor surrendered 
his house to his son, William B. John G. Costar resided 
on the block, and his house formed the corner of Barclay 
Street and Broadway. David Suydnm, the famous 
flour merchant, resided on the block. Michael PafT, who 
was a companion of Mr. Astor across the Atlantic, kept 
his celebrated picture gallery on the corner of Vesey 
Street and Broadwa}^ The resolution to build a hotel 
that should bear his name Mr. Astor kept a secret. He 
quietly purchased lot after lot until he owned the 
whole block, Mr. Costar's house alone excepted. Mr. 
Costar was rich, liked the location, and refused to sell. 



10 Sunshine and Shadow 



Mr. Astor made n proposition to Mr. Costar, tliat each 
should name a friend, the two should choose a third, and 
they should estimate the value of the property. To 
the sum named, Mr. Astor agreed to add twenty thou- 
sand dollars. This proposition was acceded to, and the 
land became Mr. Aster's. In 1836, on the 1st of June, 
the Astor House was thrown open to the public. It 
was then in the extreme upper part of New York. It 
soon became the most famous hotel in the nation. It 
has alwaj's been the centre of travel and trade. The 
onmibuses and street cars, connectin": with all the 
ferries, places of amusement, and railroads, start from 
the Astor. The great rotunda is high 'change daily for 
the eminent men of the nation. Political societies, 
clubs, benevolent organizations, and great corporations 
hold their meetinfi;s at this hotel. 

NEW YORK AROUND THE ASTOR. 

When this hotel was opened, in 1836, all New York 
was below the hotel. Trinity Church was the centre 
of the city. The Fulton Street Dutch Church was so 
far up town, that people residing in lower New York 
could not reach it with comfort. Mr. Astor was g^en- 
erally censured for putting his hotel so flir away from 
the residences of the people. There were then but 
two hotels above the Astor — the American, where 
Lafayette was entertained, on the corner above, and 
the Washington, which stood where A. T. Stewart's 
down-town store now stands. Any one who looks, will 
see that the City Hall has a marble front and a free- 
stone rear. No one supposed the city would ever 
reach above the City Hall, and the economical Dutch 



In New York.' 311 

saved the difference between brown stone and marble. 
On Barclay Street tbere was but one store, and that 
was a grocery, that stood on the corner opposite St. 
Peter's Church. All Park Place, and from the Astor to 
Chambers Street, and from Broadway to Greenwich, 
and from Barclay to Canal, was occupied by the aris- 
tocracy, and the houses were occupied by the rich and 
\vell-to-d(5 merchants of the city. The ultra fashion- 
al)le dwelt round St. John's Park. Trade, starting from 
the Battery, hugged the East River to Chambers Street. 
Pearl Street contained the stores of the solid merchants 
of the city. Beekman Street was the limit of tbe up- 
town dry-goods trade. The city above Fourteenth 
Street was a cornfield. Straying from Canal Street up 
town, the houses growing more and more scarce, ended 
with Union Square. It was then no square, but an 
enclosed common. It was beyond the lamp district; the 
old leather-heads, who guarded the city, never went 
beyond the lamps: people who walked in that dark 
locality had to look out for themselves. Where Cooper 
Institute and the Bible House stand there Avas a com- 
mon, without improvement ; no omnibuses ran in the 
city, and there were no street cars. The Astor House 
was away up town, and there was no place to go to. 
Tbe churches, hotels, and places of amusement were 
down town : a sin^de railroad track was laid from 
Chatham Square to Yorkville, and steam Avas used 
above Fourteenth Street. The great avenues in the 
western part of the city lie in the region then known as 
Chelsea. This was as much in the country as the Elysian 
Fields now are. City schools took a holiday, and went 
to Chelsea to take the air. Trade drove the Episcopal 



312 Sunshine and Shadow 

Theological Seminary from clown town : a farm in Chel- 
sea was presented to the institution by a Mr. Moore. It 
was so far into the country, that it was doubtful whether 
any student could ever find it. Bishop Hobart laid the 
corner-stone of the present buildings. He congrat- 
ulated the friends of sacred learning that the seminary 
was beyond the reach of trade for a century at least. 
It is now far downi tow^n, on Twentieth Street, below the 
Ninth Avenue : business has overtaken it and outrun it. 
It sends its unwelcomed din within the rooms of the 
student. It has swept away already the beautiful park 
of St. John. It is making rapid strides towards this 
colleo;e. 

o 

GENERAL STETSON AND THE ASTOR. 

Thirty-two years ago Mr. Stetson became proprietor 
of this hotel. He was then a young man ; but his 
promise as a hotel-keeper was manifest, and his ability 
had reached the ears of Mr. Astor. While on a visit to 
New York, Mr. Stetson took a fjxncy to the Astor House. 
Things did not work smoothly with the proprietors, 
and the owner of the house was not satisfied. Mr. 
Stetson received a note one day from Mr. Astor, re- 
questing him to call upon him. Measuring the young 
man from foot to head for some time, the old merchant 
said, " I understand you w^ant to do some business with 
me, young man." Mr. Stetson very coolly replied, that 
he understood that Mr. Astor wanted to transact some 
business with him ; that his confidential clerk had 
written him a note, asking him to call, but if Mr. Astor 
had no business, he would bid him good morning, as he 
had but a short time to remain in the city. The inde- 
pendence of the young man rather pleased the old 



In New York. 313 

merchant, and lie said, " Sit down, young man ; don't 
be in such a hurry. What are you going to do, 
young man ? " "I am going to get my Hving, and 
get it by hotel keeping." " And you think you can 
keep my hotel — do you?" "Yes," said the young 
Napoleon, " I can keep any hotel in the city. I will 
keep a hotel, not a tavern." "And what is the differ- 
ence between a tavern and a hotel ? " said Mr. Astor. 
" Just the difference between what your hotel is and 
what you wish it to be. A tavern keeper knows how 
to go to mari^et, and liow to feed so many people at a 
public table. A hotel keeper is a gentleman who 
stands on a level with his guests." The young man 
proved to be one after Mr. Astor's own heart. He 
made terms with him. Mr. Stetson said he v»'as penni- 
less, with nothing but his honor, and he wanted Mr. 
Astor to furnish him with funds sufficient to buy out 
the proprietors, and put the hotel in complete running 
order. " And how much money will you v/ant ? " said 
the old man. " I may not want more than one thou- 
sand dollars, I may want twenty ; but I will not take 
the house unless I can draw on you for fifty thousand 
dollars if I need it. I will buy the lease if it costs me 
twenty thousand dollars, and put the house in perfect 
order if it costs me twenty thousand more." " Fifty 
thousiuid dollars is a oTcat deal of monev," said Mr. 
Astor, "and I have no security." " Yes, you have ; you 
have my honor, and the promise that I will keep 
what you want — a first-class hotel." The rigid terms 
were acceded to. Thirty years ago, at two o'clock, on 
the 12th of July, the papers were passed, and Mr. 
Stetson became the proprietor of the Astor House. 



314 Sunshine and Shadow 



THIRTY YEARS OF HOTEL LIFE. 

Mr. Stetson is still connected ^vitll the Astor. He 
can be seen daily in the corridors of the hotel, in the 
ripeness of mature life, welcoming, with a manly, hearty 
frankness, his friends beneath his roof He has never 
sunk the man in his business. He has been the bosom 
companion and friend of the most eminent men of the 
land ; intelligent, large-hearted, and well informed, and 
is a genial companion. The Astor has been the home 
of all the eminent men of America. Mr. Stetson has 
more of the unwritten history of the countr}^ in his 
possession than any other man, and he knows more of 
the private history of the leading men of the country 
than any other person. His liberality and generosity 
are unbounded. His gifts to the poor have been con- 
stant and large. During the war he kept open house 
to officers and men, and gave the stewards of the 
hospitals the free run of his kitchen. His honor is un- 
tarnished, and his reputation without a stain. When 
cruelly wronged by others, and the earnings of his life 
w^ere swept away by the fraud of associates, no one 
doubted his integrity. The owner of the Astor House 
came to him, and snid, "Mr. Stetson, your load is too 
heavy ; pay us no rent till we call for it, and give your- 
self no trouble about it." And they bore the load till 
Mr. Stetson could carry it. Great commercial convul- 
sions roar past the dwellings of hotel keepers as well 
as others, in disastrous times which make the stoutest 
merchants stagger. The same proprietors, though they 
could have entered advantageously to themselves, and 
taken possession, yet came forward and made a liberal 



In New York. 315 

arrangement with a company by which the profits of 
the lease could be restored to Mr. Stetson and his 
family. Mr. Stetson's mantle seems to have fallen on 
his sons. The elder keeps the hotel in Central Park. 
He must have character and skill, or the conmiissioners 
would not have intrusted that important house to his 
keeping. When the splendid hotel at Long Branch 
was reared, no name was considered more fittimi!: for it 
to bear than that of Stetson. It has been kept with 
great success for two seasons by Charles, Jr., in connec- 
tion with his uncle James. The younger son made a 
brilliant record in the war, and by his personal heroism 
more than once saved the fortune of the dav. And 
though only a captain, he has led a brigade to battle. 
He has now taken the Astor House, and has fidl charge 
of its inunense business. 

MR. JONES, THE EAGGAGE-MASTER. 

On entering the hotel, a quiet gentleman was for 
many years seen sitting near the baggage. He sat 
there more than thirty years. He is about sixty years 
of age. He has a quick ear, a sharj) eye, and a ready 
step. He came to the hotel before Mr. Stetson. This 
i^entlemaii was Mr. Jones, the bairu^aiire-master. He 
had char£i;e of all luii:iraa:e that came or went. Every- 
thinii: was under his direction. Give Mr. Jones the 
key of your room, your checks, or your order, and 
}"0u could eat 3^our meals in quietness. No trunk got 
on the wrono- coach, no bundles were left behind, if 
Mr. Jones had charu:e. He handled the trunks of 
nearly all the great men of the nation. Belles and 
dames of distinction in the New World and in the Old 



316 Sunshine and Shadow 

knew liim. He saw milllonnalres reduced to penury, 
merchant princes fail, and the proud ones become 
lowly. He had no salary during the long term of 
thirty years. All his pay was from the voluntary con- 
tributions of the house. At the close of the day's 
duties, Mr. Jones changed his attire, put on a fashion- 
able overcoat, and with cane in hand set out for his 
brown-stone house in upper New York. He lived near 
Fifth Avenue. His house was elegantly furnished, and 
he lived in fine style. Mr. Jones picked up and saved, 
by carrying trunks up and down the hotel stairs, the 
snug sum of seventy-five to one hundred thousand 
dollars. His relatives, connected with the old Astor, 
had a fine start, and some of them have made for- 
tunes. To see Mr. Jones in the cars, in his spruce array 
and blithe manner, one would take him to be a well- 
to-do down-town merchant. 

AVhile I write, the remains of Mr. Jones are being 
carried to their lono; home. He reached the full Ci<j:e 
of seventy years. He was always at his post ; courte- 
ous, attentive, prompt, faithful, he discharged his duties 
with acceptance. He could answer any question about 
routes, teams, and trains that any one could ask. He 
was honest and trustful, and a gentleman of the old 
school. He was intimate with the prominent men of 
two generations. Van Buren knew him. He called 
up the trunks of Taylor and Buchanan. Pierce and 
Lincoln treated him with respect. He was a man after 
Mr. Webster's own heart. General Grant confided in 
him, and he could claim Admiral Farragut as his friend. 
Beloved, respected, and honored by all, he passed away 
in a moment, in the ripeness of age, and amid the 
general sorrow of his friends. 



In New York. 317 

ROOM NUMBER ELEVEN THURLOW WEED's NEW YORK HOME. 

One of the most famous rooms in the Astor is No. 11. 
It is on the parlor floor, near the ladies' entrance. It 
consists of one room and a small ante-room. Save the 
President's room at the White House, no room in 
America has had a greater influence on the political 
destinies than room No. 11. This is the room occupied 
by Thurlow Weed. He has occupied it for a term of 
years. Men of mark in the nation and in the world, 
cabinet officers and foreign ministers, eminent civilians, 
governors of states and territories, with members of 
Congress, when in New York find their way to No. 11. 
In that little room Presidents have been made and 
destroyed, foreign embassies arranged, the patronage 
of the nation and state distributed, and the "slates" 
of ambitious and scheming politicians smashed. Mr. 
Weed has long been the Warwick in politics. He is 
eminently practical, keen, and far-sighted. He looks 
for success, and when his -ptivty follows his lead it 
generally triumphs. Without office, emolument, or 
l^olitical gifts to bestow on his friends, he has more 
influence with the politicians of the land than any man 
in America. He has great gifts as a writer. His short, 
sharp, telling articles, signed T. W., attract universal 
attention. 

He is a marked man about the Astor. He never 
walks through the corridors but he attracts attention, 
and the universal inquiry is, Who is that gentleman ? 
He walks generally alone, with a soft, cat-like tread, 
his head inclined on one side, and as if in great haste. 
His tone of conversation is low, like one trained to 



o 



18 Sunshine. AND Shadow 



caution in liis utterances, lest he should be overheard. 
He is tall, with a slight stoop. He carries an air of 
benevolence in his face, and looks like a man of letters, 
and would easily be mistaken for a professor, or a 
doctor of divinity. His modesty and activity are 
marvellous. He is seldom at rest, but comes and goes 
like one driven by an impulse" that is irresistible. He 
takes tlie evening train, and is back to business the 
next morninL!:. He walks into the dinino:-room, and 
before you can say, " There is Thurlow Weed," he has 
eaten and gone. While he sits at his breakfast at the 
Astor, he reads the telegraph that announces his arrival 
in Albany. A message comes to him in cipher. He 
takes the midnight train for AYashington, and before 
the press can announce his arrival, he is back to his old 
quarters. 

MR. AVEED's early CAREER. 

He took to the daily press as some boys take to the 
sea. He has great tact in editing a paper, and is one 
of the best letter writers in the land. He has travelled 
much, and his correspondence from foreign lands, and 
from different parts of our own country, is a model 
of terseness, raciness, and spirit. He appeared to the 
public as an editor in Rochester. He bought out a 
half interest in a small paper. The Anti-masonic excite- 
ment was then raging. He admitted an article into his 
weekly, denouncing the arrest and death of Morgan. 
He wrote an editorial on the same subject. The pub- 
lication of these articles brouii-ht a storm of indiai-nation 
upon him that sunk his little craft. Mr. Weed thought 
it not fair that his partner should suffer. He bought 
out his interest, moved the concern to Albany, and set 



Ix\ New York. 319 

up an independent paper. He formed an intimate con- 
nection with Governor William H. Seward, now Secre- 
tary of State. The two constituted a mighty power in 
the political world, which continued for over thirty years, 
controlling the destiny of the state, and dividing its 
patronage. It was the general impression that Mr. 
AYeed earned the laure-ls and Mr. Seward wore them. 
Mr. Seward is very fond of his ci^-ar. In old stao-e 
times he o-enerallv rode wdth the driver, that he mi'dit 
enjoy his favorite Havana. Wliile riding one day, the 
driver eyed the quiet, silent gentleman for some time, 
and thought he would find out who he was. Address- 
ing himself to Mr. Seward, he said, "Captain, what are 
you ? " " Guess," was the reply. '^ A farmer ? " " No." 
"A merchant?" "No." "A minister?" "No." "Well, 
what then?" "Governor." "Governor of what?" 
" Of this state." " I guess not." " Inquire at the next 
tavern." Driving up, Mr. Seward asked the proprietor, 
" Do you know me ? " " Yes ! " " Wliat is my name ? " 
"Seward." "Am I Governor of New York?" "No, 
by thunder! Tiiurlow Weed is." 

SECRET OF HIS POWER. 

Mr. Weed has held long political rule. He has talent, 
tact, industry, and shrewdness; more than all, he has 
heart. To all dependents, however humble, he is con- 
siderate. There is not a boy or man on the great lines 
from New York to the lakes who does not know and 
love him. A conductor said, " Mr. Weed could send a 
glass vase to Galena by the boys, and not have it 
broken." He pays liberally for all fivors, and has a 
peculiar way of attaching persons to himself. To the 



320 Sunshine and Shadow 

lowly, indigent, and unfortunate he is a tender friend. 
His private life is crowded with deeds of kindness, and 
a thousand eyes moisten at the mention of his name. 
At any inconvenience or cost he wall serve those to 
whom he is attached. When he resided in Albany, he 
has been known to wait hours at night 'for a delayed 
train, to meet one who had asked to see him. 

AN INCIDENT. 

In the daj^s of his great political powder he would not 
always admit distinguished men into his presence, but 
the lowly could always gain his ear. One day, being 
greatly pressed with business, he gave orders that no 
one should be admitted. A senator called. Mr. Weed 
named the hour that he would see him. The governor 
called, and a similar appointment was made. A heavy 
knock brought Mr. Weed to his feet. A colored man, 
trembling like a pursued fawn, asked to see him. Mr. 
Weed knew him, had befriended him before, and knew 
that nothing but stern necessity brought him from 
home. In his tenderest tones, Mr. Weed bade him 
come in. He pushed aside his papers, and heard his 
story, gave him money, and aided him in his flight. 
He had no time for a senator or a governor, but he had 
time, counsel, and money for a fugitive negro. And this 
is but a type of Mr. Weed's private life. 

PERSONAL. 

Mr. Weed is very fascinating and genial as a com- 
panion. As successful orators put themselves in sym- 
23athy with their audience, Mr. AVeed has the ability of 
completely captivating those with whom he converses. 



In New York. 321 

There is an air of frank benignity in his manner, a ten- 
derness in his tone, and he seems so sincere in his efforts 
to please, that one is captivated with his society. He 
is one of the best talkers in the country. For more 
than fifty years he has been the intimate companion of 
our eminent public men. He has a mass of informa- 
tion, anecdote, incident, and story about earlier days, 
that is interesting and fascinating. It is his purpose 
to write the history of men and things as he has known 
them for half a century. His correspondence with 
public men, at home and abroad, has been immense. 
His daughter Harriet, since the death of her mother, 
has been bound up in her flither. His wishes, neces- 
sities, and comfort have been her constant study. 
Many years ago, unbeknown to her father, she gath- 
ered, assorted, and indexed all his letters and papers, 
with every sort of memorandum. Since she commenced 
the work, each day she has carefully gathered every 
note and letter. Every piece is labelled and numbered, 
and carefully entered, by index, in a book, so that Mr. 
Weed can call for any letter, or paper, or memorandum, 
as far back as the time of Jackson, and have it pro- 
duced as readily as any bank can present to a customer 
his account. Such a mass of private history, embracing 
a period so full of startling events; such j^olitical 
revelations ; such letters from politicians and public 
men, so racy, so sensational and telling, does not 
exist in this country anywhere outside of the strong 
box under the key of Miss Harriet Weed. To bring 
out the treasures of this chest will constitute the closing 
life-work of Thurlow Weed. While abroad he was 
received everywhere with honors accorded usually 

21 



322 Sunshine and Shadow 

only to the highest stations. Mr. Weed will occupy 
room No. 11 at the Astor House while he lives. 
The friendship between himself and General Stet- 
son, the host of the Astor, has been strong, perma- 
nent, and unbroken for thirty years. It is the inten- 
tion of the host of the Asto'r, that when Mr. Weed sliall 
be borne to that house appointed for all living, his old ( 

quarters at the Astor shall be dismantled, to be oc- 
cupied by no one after him. 

t 

MR. WEBSTER AT THE ASTOR HOUSE. 

For many years the Astor House was the New York 
home of the great statesman. The famed Webster 
Rooms adjoin those occupied by Mr. Weed, and w^ere 
numbered twelve and thirteen, A bed-room, a parlor, 
and dining-room composed the suite. Come when Mr. 
Webster would, by niglit or day, these rooms awaited 
him. All who occupied them in his absence took them 
on the condition that they must be vacated at a mo- 
ment's notice. On the death of Mr. AYebster, the parti- 
tions that divided the apartments were torn down, that 
they might never be used again by any guests. They 
now, make the private breakfast room on the ladies' 
side of the house. Mr. Webster and General Stetson 
were bosom friends, and that friendship was severed 
only by death. Some of Mr. Webster's happiest hours 
were passed in his rooms at the Astor. The cheery 
voice of the liberal host always welcomed him as he 
crossed the threshold, and was music to his ear. Mr. 
Webster went from these rooms to Marshfield, where 
he was to lay himself down, to rise not till the heavens 
are no more. Worn and weary, Mr. Webster dropped a 



IxN New York. 323 

word at that last visit which showed that, in his judg- 
ment, he was going home to die. He took an afTec- 
tionate leave of his friend, whom he had known and 
loved for more than thirty years. lie presented him 
with a complete set of his works, accompanied by a 
letter written in his best vein, which will be an heir- 
loom in the family. On his death-bed at Marshfield 
he wrote the last letter that he ever penned, full of 
love and affection, to his life-long friend, the host of the 
Astor. 

Few persons knew Mr. Webster better. He knew 
him as he appeared to the public — an orator pouring 
out the nervous tide of eloquence ; an advocate at the 
bar, carrying court^and jury, willing or reluctant, along 
wdth him ; the farmer at Marshfield, familiar with cat- 
tle and crops, dressed in his short jacket, long pants, 
heavy brogans, and wide-brimmed, bad-looking hat ; a 
boatman and fisherman, hunting his favorite game in 
Marshfield Bay ; as a companion, social, fervent, and 
warm in friendship.; and he knew well how strong was 
his faith in the God of his fathers. 

AN INCIDENT. 

At Marshfield Mr. Webster was at one time engaged 
in conversation with a friend. The clock struck nine. 
Mr. Webster arose and left the room. He did not 
return for an hour, and some allusion was made to his 
absence. Mrs. Webster remarked that her husband 
had gone to bed ; that nine o'clock was his summer hour 
for retiring while on the farm ; his guests and fuiailj^ 
consulted their own convenience. At three o'clock ni 
the morning the guest heard Mr. Webster calling for 



324 Sunshine and Shadow 

shaving-water. Shortly after he left the house. A 
plain office, one story high, built of wood and painted 
white, still stands in the grove of Mafshfield, now silent 
and deserted, and this was the working-room of Mr. 
AYebster durinc^ his public life. Entering this office 
early in the morning, and closing the door, he ad- 
dressed himself to his business, and finished the labor 
of the day before breakfast. On arising in the morn- 
ing, the visitors proposed to make Mr. Webster a morn- 
ing visit at his office. Mrs. Webster said, " Gentlemen, 
that office and this hour are sacred to labor. Mr. 
Webster gives to his guests all the time he can spare 
from his public duties. I never call upon him in his 
office hours, and he will not be pleased if you disturb 
him. When his labor is finished he will appear." The 
guests had not long to w^ait. Soon the host appeared. 
He bade them a hearty good morning, and proceeded 
to the breakfast table, and from thence to the pleasures 
of the day. Going to bed at nine o'clock, and rising 
daily at three, was his home custom. No wonder he 
could write his brilliant letter on the glory of the 
morning ! 

Webster's birthday. 

For many years it was a custom to celebrate, by a 
dinner at the Astor, the birthday of Mr. Webster. This 
custom was continued for several years after his death. 
The dinner was attended by the most eminent New 
England men residing in New York, and the personal 
friends of Mr. Webster living in the state. At one of 
these gatherings, at which I was present, personal 
reminiscences were told of the great statesman. Many 
incidents of his inside life came out, which have a 



In New York. - 325 

permanent value. He made a* profession of religion 
Avlien he was a young man, and his name remains on 
the records of the Congregational Church at Boscawen, 
N. H. In the plain wooden church at Marshfield his 
pew is still shown, where in foul weather as in fair, 
with the distinguished guests, foreign and native, who 
were .at his house, he sat and worshipped the God of 
his fathers. He said to Dr. Codman, whose church he 
attended, " I am no half-a-day hearer, sir." He liked 
the simple preaching of the gospel, and detested all 
pomp and pretence in the pulpit. He was accustomed 
to ask a hlessing at his table daily, luiless he had politi- 
cal guests, when it was omitted, lest it should be placed 
to the account of ostentation. One eminent man at 
the dinner said that he had known Mr. Webster inti- 
mately for thirty years, socially and convivially ; at his 
own house, and on political campaigns; had been his 
guest at the Marshfield farm, and at the capital ; during 
that long time he never heard him utter an improper 
word, use an oath, or allow one to be used in* his 
presence without a decided but gentlemanly rebuke. 

One gentleman related this anecdote : Mr. Webster 
was a great lover of fine cattle, and was a much better 
judge of stock than his friends at that time imagined. 
Mr. Webster was on a visit to this srentleman at his 
fiirm in Massachusetts. He had some valuable imported 
stock, in which he took great pride. He proposed to 
make Mr. Webster a present of one of his cows. In the 
exuberance of his generosity, he told Mr. Webster he 
miiv;ht have his choice out of his lot. Mr. Webster re- 
quested that the cattle be driven into the yard. He 
walked leisurely down, and leaning his back against 



326 Sunshine and Shadow 

the fence, saying nothing, he surveyed the stock before 
him. Not a point escaped his eye, not a mark was 
unnoticed. Having satisfied himself by an outside 
survey, he turned to his host, and said, " Bring me a 
pail." Selecting three choice specimens, he formed his 
decision, and said, " I will take this one." His friend 
saw with dismay that Mr. Webster, with the eye of a 
master, had selected the most valuable cow of the lot, 
and she was soon on her way to Marshfield. 

BALTIMORE NOMINATION. 

Before General Scott received the nomination of the 
Whig party for President, Mr. Webster had put him- 
self forward as the champion of the rights of the south, 
and had gone as far in that direction as the northern 
heart could allow. He expected a generous vote from 
the south at the convention, whether it carried his 
nomination or not. The deleo-ates from Massachusetts 
were Webster delegates, and gloried in the name of 
WeJbster Whigs. Mr. Choate headed the delegation, 
and made impassioned appeals for the nomination of 
his friend. From the start the nomination of General 
Scott was fixed, and the southern members did not care 
to recognize Mr. Webster's services on their behalf, 
which had alienated so large a portion of Mr. Webster's 
northern friends. They refused him the compliment 
of a full vote on any question, though it would not 
have jeopardized the nomination of their favorite can- 
didate. -Mr. Webster felt this neglect, and took no 
pains to conceal his mortification. He saw, with 
chagrin, his meagre vote from first to last, and felt in- 
dignant that the southern delegates voted in a body 



In Neav York. 327 



o^i 



steadily against him. Having finished the nomination 
of General Scott, the southern delegation resolved to 
take the cars, visit Mr. Webster, and explain to him the 
reasons which dictated their conduct. They telegraphed 
to him that they were coming. They reached his 
rooms about midnight, and found him in bed. He re- 
fused to arise, and refused to receive them. Personal 
friends interceded, and the southern gentlemen entered 
his parlor to await his coming. He soon made his 
appearance. He wore his dressing-gown, pants, and 
slippers. His drawers were untied, and the strings 
hung loosely about his ancles. He wore neither stock 
nor collar. He had arisen from his bed at their sum- 
mons, and it was evident that he had not removed his 
night-shirt. He gave the delegation a chilling welcome, 
made his coldest bow, and wore his blackest look. The 
conference was opened by the chairman, who, in a 
sp)eecli complimentary to Mr. Webster's great abilities, 
and his signal services to the south, began to apologize 
for the action of the deleg-ation at Baltimore. Mr. 
Webster cut the speaker short, by stating that he 
desired to hear no vindication of their conduct ; that 
what tliey had done was past recall ; if they had done 
their duty, they had nothing to regret ; if not, their 
consciences must be their accusers. He told them he 
was mortified and indignant at their persistent refusal 
to give him the poor compliment of a vote. He re- 
minded them of his labors and sacrifices on their behalf, 
the letters he had written, and the speeches he had 
made. He recalled the indignation of his own party, 
and the loss of long-tried friendships he had suffered 
from his public course in behalf of the south -, he told 

I 



328 



Sunshine and Shadow 



them they had been ungrateful, and were unworthy of 
the sacrifices made for tbeni ; that they had sown 
drao'ons' teeth, and a harvest of armed men would come 
up. lie reminded the delegation that they had used 
and deserted every northern man wdio had stood tli^ir 
friend in dark and perilous days, and that he was the 
last man they would sacrifice, and the last they would 
desert. He said to them, " Gentlemen, my public life 
has ended. I am going to Marshfield to slee^^ with my 
fathers. I carry, with me a consciousness of duty well 
done. When perilous times come to you, as come they 
wdll, you will mourn, in bitterness of spirit, over your 
craven conduct and your base ingratitude. I wish 
you good evening, gentlemen," and the great states- 
man passed out, leaving the delegation to their own 
meditations. 



MR. WEBSTER AND GENERAL TAIXOR. 

On the receipt of the nomination of General Taylor 
by the Whig party, Mr. Webster made a speech at 
Marshfield, in which he denounced the nomination as 
one " not fit to be made." Yet Mr. Webster was the 
original Taylor man of the country. He saw his 
merits as a candidate long before the public or politi- 
cians recognized him. A stirring article appeared in 
the National Intelligencer, presenting the claims of 
General Taylor to the Presidency, vindicating him 
from charges preferred against him, and denouncing 
the administration for their treatment of the great 
soldier in his Mexican campaign. When General 
Taylor came prominently before the public, and it was 
doubtful whether the Whigs or the Democrats would 



In New York. 329 

nominate him, Mr. Webster gathered iijd his writings 
on General Taylor, with the early article that appeared 
in the Intelligencer, and sent them, with a letter, to a 
distinguished senator in the South, who was supposed 
to be in the confidence of General Taylor, his personal 
friend and adviser. This original letter I have seen, 
and 'a copy of it I possess. In it Mr. Webster urges 
the nomination of General Taylor, giving reasons 
therefor ; yields whatever claims he might possess in 
favor of the great soldier ; requests his friends to pro- 
ceed prudently in the matter, making no " sudden 
pledge or plunge," and asks the senator to make Gen- 
eral Taylor acquainted with Mr. Webster's services on 
his behalf To this letter no reply was made, neither 
was there any recognition of Mn Webster's services on 
behalf of the general. He had taken early steps to 
create a public sentiment in his favor. General Taylor 
was almost unknown to the American people. But 
none of these eminent services received the least at- 
tention ' or acknowledo;ment. General Tavlor was 
nominated, elected, and inaugurated. Mr. Webster 
looked coldly and silently on. About six weeks before 
General Taylor died the facts in the case came out. 
Mr. Webster's lette" was mislaid. Indeed, it was not 
opened till after the death of the senator to whom it 
W' as addressed. General Taylor was made aware of the 
fact that Mr. Webster was his early friend and advo- 
cate, and had yielded all his personal feelings and aspi- 
rations in connection with the Presidencv, and had 
smoothed the path of the successful candidate to the 
chair of state. On learning these facts. General Taylor 
took his carriage and drove immediately to the resi- 



330 Sunshine and Shadow 

dence of Mr. Webster, made his acknowledgments, and 
effected a reconciliation. Had General Taylor lived a 
month longer, Mr. Webster would have been Secretary 
of State. 

Mr. Webster, at the close of his life, expressed his re- 
gret that when he moved from Portsmouth he had not 
selected New York instead of Boston as his home.' His 
wife, who survived him, lived with her father, before 
her marriage, in lower New York, which was also for 
many years Mr. Webster's town residence. The build- 
ing, scarcely changed, stands near Bowling Green, its 
entrance guarded by two huge granite lions. It was 
the centre, at one time, of fashion^ and the home of the 
eminent men of New York. 



/ 



In New York. 331 



XXXV. 

LEONARD W. JEROME. 

Daring speculation and success in bold operations 
have placed Mr. Jerome among the wealthy citizens of 
upper New York. He can be seen any pleasant Sun- 
day morning, when the streets are crowded with church- 
goers, driving his four-in-hand up Fifth Avenue, bound 
for the Central Park. His carriage, a huge omnibus, 
will be filled with gay ladies, in opera costume ; two 
lackeys in livery fill the coupe behind, while the driver, 
with a cluster of flowers in his button-hole, attracts 
general attention, as the multitude cry out, " That's 
Jerome." 



332 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXXYI. 

REV. DR. E. H. CHAPIN. 

IN NEW YORK. — ASA PREACHER. — IN THE PCLPIT. — PERSONAL. 

IN NEW YORK. 

Dr. Chapin is the leading Universalist preacher in 
the state. He has been a settled pastor in New York 
for several years. He was settled in Richmond, Ya., 
and Charlestown, Mass., before he came to this city. A 
few gentlemen purchased the Reformed Dutch Church, 
then located in Murray'' Street, for the purpose of 
founding a new Universalist society. Dr. Chapin was 
called as pastor, and accepted the trust. The society 
whose house he occupied commenced the up-town 
march, and built an elegant edifice on Twenty-first 
Street and Fifth Avenue. Dr. Bellows's con£j:re£>:ation 
moved from Chambers Street to Broadway, opposite the 
St. Nicholas Hotel, and built wdiat was then one of the 
most costly and sumptuous churches in the city. Not 
satisfied with this, the congregation took a start for a 
more fashionable up-town location. On the corner of 
Fourth Avenue and Twentieth Street they erected 
that strange-looking striped structure, known popularly 
as the Church of the Holy Zebra. The vacant church 



In New York. 333 

on Broadway was purchased by Dr. Chapin's congrega- 
tion, and here his fame as an eloquent preacher became 
permanently established. The last season his congre- 
gation have abandoned this down-town edifice, and 
have erected, and now occupy, one of the most expen- 
sive city churches, in a most fashionable locality up 
town. 

AS A PREACHER. 

Dr. Chapin was educated in the strictest principles 
of evangelical fiith. His parents were members of a 
Presbyterian Church south, and of a Puritan Congre- 
gational Church north. The early religious training 
of Dr. Chapin affects his ministry still. In it is found 
much of the secret of his success. A stranger, to hear 
hhn, would not imagine that he was a Universalist, but 
would suppose him to be an earnest, rousing, evangeli- 
cal preacher. He uses the vocabulary connnon to the 
evangelical pulpit. He talks of sin and its punishment ; 
of the divinity of Christ, and the redemption of the 
soul through the blood of the Lamb ; of repentance 
and faith, regeneration, religious experience, and salva- 
tion through the Savior. Of course he puts his own 
interpretation on these phrases, but he uses them never- 
theless, usually without qualification or interpretation. 
He is not dogmatical, but practical. He deals largely 
with the humanities and the reforms of the day. He 
was an open friend of the slave, a bold and able advo- 
cate of temperance, and has given much of his time 
and advocacy to the benevolent movements of the day. 
He is a rhetorician rather than a theologian. He c£in 
preach eloquently on a political canvass, a snow storm, 
a disaster at sea, or a fallen omnibus horse m Broad. 



334 Sunshine and Shadow 

way. He is at home on the woes, temptations, sorrows, 
and poverty of city life. He gives excellent jDractical 
advice to yonng men and young women. 

IN THE PULPIT. 

No congregation in New York is larger than Dr. 
Chapin's. It embraces many marked men of the city, 
and nearly every denomination has a representative in 
it. In appearance, Dr. Chapin is very peculiar. He is 
short, very stout, his black hair is turning gray, and his 
beard is nearly white. He dresses very little like a 
clergyman. His clothes fit him as if they were made 
for somebody else, and are put on without much regard 
to order. He waddles up the centre aisle to the pulpit 
at a brisk pace, swaying from side to side like an 
earnest man who has a job on hand that he means to 
attend to. His voice is clear, sonorous, shrill, but not 
unmusical. His reading is fastidiously correct, as if he 
had practised the manner and cadence before he left 
his study. In speaking, he is natural, impetuous, and 
stirring. His voice haunts the hearer like the. remem- 
brance of a pleasant song. He reads closely from his 
manuscript, rapidly, and with great fervor. Most of 
his gestures are out of sight, under the pulpit. Occa- 
sionally he breaks away from his notes, and electrifies 
his audience by a burst of eloquence rarely heard in a 
city pulpit. He strikes out on a high key, which he 
seldom abandons till his sermon is closed. He has 
none of that colloquial manner which marks Mr. 
Beecher. He has not the ability of soaring to the full 
compass of his voice with an impassioned utterance, 
and then falling to a colloquial tone that hushes an 



In New York. 335 



audience into general silence. When he reaches his 
impassioned key, he holds on to the end. But he has 
the rare gift which marked Wesley and Whitefield, 
which distinguishes Spurgeon and the few popular 
preachers of this day, of putting himself in sympathy 
with his audience, holding them whether they will or 
no, and leading them captive at wilL 

PERSONAL. 

Dr. Chapin is warm-hearted, genial, and noble-spirited. 
He is very popular with our citizens generally, with all 
classes and all sects. On public occasions, dinners, re- 
ceptions of eminent men, the meeting of military and 
other public bodies, he is often selected to make ad- 
dresses. He is very social in his friendships, and is 
regarded as a fast and true friend. As a lecturer he is 
popular and successful. Next to Mr. Beecher, his in- 
come is probably larger than that of any other clergy- 
man in the state. 



336 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXXVII. 
REV. O. B. FROTHINGHAM. 

This gentleman is pastor of the Third Unitarian 
Church in New York. His position is somewhat noted, 
as he holds the theology that marked Theodore Parker, 
and his friends claim that the mantle of the Boston 
rationalist has fallen on Mr. Frothingham. His house 
is a small one in the upper part of the city. It is a 
•very genteel, quiet place of worship, holding a small 
congregation. With here and there an auditor going 
in of a Sunday morning, the church presents a marked 
contrast to the rush and throno^ that distino-uish the 
congregations of Dr. Bellows or Dr. Osgood. Mr. 
Frothingham is as little like a reformer or a radical as 
can well be conceived. He is as dainty a preacher as 
the most fastidious could desire. His cono-reo-ation is 
very select. His pulpit is loaded down with flowers, 
and everything about the concern is as elegant and as 
choice as a lady's boudoir. At the exact time, from a 
side door, the pastor enters his church, and begins his 
work in elegant array. His silk gown has evidently 
been fitted by an artist. His black and curly locks 
shine as if the barber had just lifted his hands from 
them in the vestry. Each hair is in its place. His 
voice is low, and soft, .and sweet, like a strain of distant 



In New York. 337 

music. His cadence is that of the Unitarian school 
of the olden time. He reads closely, seldom lifts his 
eyes from the paper, and makes no gestures. He has 
been pastor of his church over ten years, and the size 
of his congregation to-day shows that he is illy fitted 
to change the theology and customs of even the liberal 
men of his own party. A rougher oratory, less fastidi- 
ousness, of a more decided utterance, are needed if 
New York is to be moved. 

Mr. Frothingham passes with the public as a Parkerite* 
He is abstractedly of the Parker school, but personally 
quite by himself He builds faith, as Parker did, on per- 
sonal intentions, but does not feel, as Parker felt, the great 
religious impulses of the church and Christian society. 
He is an individualist in opinion and feeling, whilst 
Parker thought mainly for himself, but felt warmly 
wdth the masses. Mr. Frothingham feels for the many,, 
but not n)ith them ; is a democrat in principle, and an 
aristocrat in taste and temperament; something of a 
socialist in ideas, and a recluse in disposition ; a friend 
of the poor and suffering in practice, yet a somewhat 
fastidious gentleman in his affinities and associations. 
He is sincere, earnest, and laborious with head, and 
heart, and hand, yet he has more brains than bowels, 
and has not the large stomach and full juices that have 
so much to do with the success of the Luthers and 
Theodore Parkers of reform, and the Spurgeons of the 

platform. 

22 



338 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXXVIII. 

PRACTICAL JOKES. 

GREEK SLAVE. — SECTARIAN DOG. — A NOCTURNAL MISTAKE. — HOW TO COL- 
LECT A CROWD. SERMON TO OLD VETERANS. HUMOU IN THE ri'LPIT. 

WOOL BY THE FOOT. GHOST IN ASTOR LIBRARY. — A BAPTIST MINISTER IN 

A QUANDARY. A BAD SPECULATION. RIVAL CLAIMS TO AUTHORSHIP. — • 

A DIVINE ON HIS MUSCLE. — BARNUM AND THE KECTOK — FUN AND PIETY. 

GREEK SLAVE, 

To pay ofT the debt of a church up town, a fair was 
proposed, at which tableaux were to be introduced. The 
fair was in the hands of some ladies and gentlemen of 
the first respectability and standing. The printed pro- 
gramme announced " The Greek Slave " as the closing 
tableau. How that could be exhibited with propriety 
to a mixed audience was a marvel. " Say a house has 
the plague, and all London will go to see it," is the 
Englisli proverb. Say that something supposed to be 
indelicate is to be put on exhibition, and the sensitive 
will go in crowds to express their indignation. The 
intention of the committee in putting the Greek Slave 
on the programme was to draw a crowd, and make the 
thing a success, as of course it was. At length the 
tableau of the Greek Slave was reached. Many a 
heart palpitated and cheek crimsoned as the curtain 
was rung up." The siglit called out bursts of laughter 



In New York. • 339 

and rounds of applause. On the centre of the stage 
stood an Irishman [Irish laborers are called "-Greeks" 
in this region, and tlieir settlements are called Greek 
settlements]. He was clothed in rags, a torn hat on his 
head, and dilapidated brogans on his feet. He had a 
hod of bricks upon his shoulder, and, wiping the sweat 
from his brow, he gave the audience a knowing nod. 
The fair getters-up of the tableau were rewarded with 
rounds of applause. The Greek Slave lifted the debt. 

SECTARIAN DOG. 

A gentleman owns a dog that has some remarkaljle 
instincts. On week days he has all the passions and 
propensities of other dogs, but on Sundays his peculiar- 
ities and sectarian sentiments come out. Unlike the 
crow, he can count. He knows when Sunday comes. 
He is not the same dog as on other days. He indulges 
in no pastimes, encourages no company, and says, in 
actions louder than words, "Six days shalt thou play 
and do all thy sport." The family are Presbyterians ; 
the dog is a Methodist. On Sunday mornings he at- 
tends tiie family to the Presbyterian house of worship, 
and then holds on his solitary and unbroken w^ty until 
he comes to his own church, which is a little firther on. 
He has a particular place, up stairs, where he sits. No 
belle, or madam of fashion, who sweeps up the aisle of 
a popular church and finds a plebeian in her pew, can 
give a more decided expression of displeasure than does 
this dog if he finds any one in his seat. He attends 
divine service, and pays dogmatical attention to the 
word of doctrine. An example to many professed 
Christians, he may Ije seen on his way to church in 



* 



340 .Sunshine and Shadow 

foul weather as in fair — not a half-day hearer either ; 
while his. denominational preferences are as well known 
as are those of any gentleman in the city. 

A NOCTURNAL MISTAKE. 

Two gentlemen do business in New York. They 
live side by side up town. The houses are so much 
alike that a stranger would easily mistake one for the 
other. With a security peculiar to New York, the 
night key that unlocks one door answers for the whole 
block. As everybody knows, the city is always under 
repair. Before the house of one of these gentlemen a 
drain was opened. He knew his house of a dark night, 
because he stumbled over the jDile of dirt and rubbish 
in front of his door. One day both of these gentlemen 
happened to go away quite early, and remained away 
quite late. During their absence the drain before one 
door was closed and opened before the other. A little 
mystified by the lateness of the hour, one of the parties, 
taking the drain as his beacon, unlocked his neighbor's 
door, put out the gas in the hall, stumbled on the stairs, 
and undertook to go to bed. The other coming home 
about the same time, avoided the house near which the 
drain opened, went into his friend's house, lit up the gas 
in the parlor, rung the bell, and called for something to 
eat. The families were quietly in bed. The influx of 
strangers, and the lo'ud noise they made, roused the 
whole house. Heads out of the window, with nidifc- 
caps on, shouted " Police ! " The city guardians made 
their appearance, and straightened matters. An at- 
tempt was made to hush up the affair, but it was too 
good a joke not to get wind. 



In New York. 341 



HOW TO COLLECT A CROWD. 

Pope's Venus was on exhibition in the city. It was 
Venus, and nothing more. It was not popular, and the 
gallery was losing money. One morning a furious 
attack was made, in one of the leading papers, on the 
e:xhibition. The attack was a very savage one. Pope's 
Venus was especially denounced as indelicate and im- 
moral, and the virtuous and religious in New York 
w^ere called upon to frown on such an exhibition. New 
York was indignant. Crowds flocked to the galleries. 
But everybody asked, ^' What is all this fuss about? 
This is the old statue of Venus." A quiet old man, who 
.was walking round the room, looking like a decayed 
professor, could have answered the question if he 
would. 

SERMON TO OLD VETERANS. 

We have, in New York, a remnQ,nt of the soldiers of 
1812. They furnished their own clothing and arms 
when the country called them to its defence. The 
government has never paid them for their clothes. 
They are poor, decrepit, and old. They can scarcely 
give a fellow-member a decent burial. They went at 
one time from church to church, as they wore invited, 
to attend public worship. They assembled, about fifty 
in number one Sunday, and marched in good order to 
the church. Seats were reserved for them, and they 
took their place in the pews. Understanding the 
fitness of things, the pastor, who had invited the veter- 
ans to worship with him, selected a tlieme appropriate 
to the occasion. It was, the benefits of Sunday school 
■instruction. The - celebrated Dr. Robbins, of Massa- 



342 Sunshine and Shadow 

chusetts, was invited to deliver an address to the 
graduating class of young ladies of the Norton Sem- 
inary. His address was on the origin, history, and 
social effects of duelling. 

HUMOR IN THE PULPIT. 

A very eccentric pastor who dwells among us is quite 
sensational in his way of doing things. His sermons 
are often from odd and out-of-the-way texts, announced 
in a manner often to produce a marked sensation. One 
day he came into his church, dressed in a white coat, 
white pants, and white vest, a low Byron collar, around 
which was fastened a red neck-tie. On arising to an- 
nounce his text, he stood for a few moments perfectly 
still. His coat was thrown open, his thumbs thrust into 
the arm-holes of his vest, and in a loud, shrill voice, he 
said, " Let her drive ! " This he repeated, and then, in a 
low tone, told his audience where the suggestive text 
could be found. 

On another occasion, in speaking of prayer, he drew a 
humorous description of the various kinds in vogue at 
the present day. His powers of mimicry are very keen, 
and, to the great merriment of his audience, he ridi- 
culed the difterent methods of addressinii; the Throne of 
Grace. He told a story of a man who wanted to pray, 
and did not know how. He went to a minister, and got 
him to write a prayer for him. He pasted this prayer 
on his foot-board, and when retiring to rest it was his 
custom to point to that prayer, and say, " Lord, them's 
my sentiments," as he jumped into bed. In the same 
sermon he told the story of a little girl who was pious- 
ly inclined, yet was very fond of pickles. She took 



In New York. 343 

one with her to her room as she retired. She laid it 
down on the chair while she knelt in devotion. Her 
little sister came into the room, helped herself to the 
23ickle, and commenced crannching it. Pausing in her 
prayer, the little devotee said, " Please excuse me a 
minute, Lord, my sister is eating up my pickle." She 
arose from her knees, rescued her pickle, and then 
finished her prayer. 

It is the custom of this preacher when a collection is 
taken up, to step to the front of the pulpit, take out his 
wallet, deliberately put a bill on the plate, and do so 
with an air that seems to say, '' I would like to see 
any one in this house do less than that ! " 

WOOL BY THE FOOT. 

A celebrated wool merchant of this city keeps a large 
stock on hand. It is in lofts, and so piled as to present 
a front to the buyer on all sides. A famous dealer went 
in one day to examine this stock. The manner in 
which it was piled suggested to him that it might not 
be as perfect all the way through as it was on the 
edges. " What do you ask for your stock ? " said the 
dealer. A price was named, so much for the lot. " I 
will give you that price," said the trader, " for two feet 
deep all around." The owner -did not see the joke as 
the laugh ran around on 'change, but he was excessive- 
ly annoyed when parties asked him, " How much is 
wool a foot ? " 



344 Sunshine and Shadow 



GHOST IN ASTOR LIBRARY. 

The belief in spirits and ghosts seems to be bred 
in our bone. Fortune-tellers, under different names, 
flourish in New York, and find patrons among the 
wealthy and so-called intelligent. Some merchants 
among us buy, sell, and make investments as they are 
instructed by mediums, in whom they trust, and to 
whom they pay their money. Judging from the ill suc- 
cess of some of these ventures, it would be fair to pre- 
sume that the judgment of spirits is not much safer in 
the matter of trade than that of men who remain in 
this world. A large portion of the letters dropped into 
the post office without any direction are letters ad- 
dressed to fortune-tellers, on business, love, matrimony, 
and divorce. 

Some time since the rumor became general that the 
Astor Library was haunted, and that a veritable ghost 
walked through the alcoves and galleries of that silent 
mausoleum of dead authors. It was announced that 
the dead Dr. Post had appeared to the living librarian. 
Much excitement was produced. Throngs of people, 
mostly ladies, visited the rooms daily. In groups they 
moved quietly round, their tread soft, their voices 
trembling and subdued, peering from alcove to alcove, 
as if they exjDCcted, but dreaded, that the local ghost 
would start out and greet them. The aged librarian 
was silent on the matter, neither denying nor affirming 
that he had seen a ghost. His friends say that he 
firmly believed, to the day of his death, that he had a 
visit from one who had been long in the spirit land. 
We boast in the nineteenth century of our freedom 



■J 



In New York. 345 

from superstition. But New York women and men 
believe as firmly in ghosts as they did in Massachusetts 
in the time of the Salem witchcraft. 

A BAPTIST MINISTER IN A QUANDARY. 

A large congregation filled an up-town Baptist 
Church not long ago. It was observed that three or 
four peWs near the door were filled with women of the 
lower class. There was an efibrt at cleanliness and 
neatness about the company. They seemed to be 
acquainted with each other, and every female had a 
young babe in her arms. On the arrival of the min- 
ister, he was told that these women were present to 
have their children baptized. Now the Baptists believe 
that inflmt baptism and the jDopish mass originated 
about the same time, in the same locality, and the re- 
quest put the preacher in a quandary. He sent a kind 
word to the mothers, however, and informed them that 
he was not in the habit of baptizing children ; but if he 
was, he knew of none whom he would sooner baptize 
than those in his audience. 

BAD SPECULATION. 

A young clergyman of this city, desirous of doing 
good, and having some money, was advised to buy the 
Sun newspaper, and turn it into a religious sheet. It 
circulated largely among the working classes; and while 
that fact would have deterred any one of common 
sense from attempting to convert it into a high-toned 
evangelical organ, yet the advisers of the gentleman 
induced him to make a venture. Of course the paper 
ran down rapidly, and the old proprietor had to step in 



346 Sunshine and Shadow 

to save it from utter annihilation. The clergyman 
went out of the concern, it is hoped, thirty-five thou- 
sand dollars wiser, as he certainly was thirty-five thou- 
sand dollars poorer. 

RIVAL CLAIMS TO AUTHORSHIP. 

The poem " Nothing to Wear " was published by the 
Harpers, and for a time had a great run. Its reputed 
author was a Mr. Butler, a lawyer of this city ; a man 
of small stature, fliir talents, and a speaker on platforms 
at religious meetings. After the poem was published, 
the daughter of an Episcopal clergyman of Connecti- 
cut laid claim to the poem, stating that the idea and 
versification, the title and the name, — Miss Flora 
McFlimsey, — were her own. To verify her claim she 
printed four lines, which she avers Mr. Butler omitted 
in his version of " Nothing to Wear." The young lady 
says that she lost the poem from her satchel while 
riding in the cars. She enjoys the confidence and 
respect of a large circle of friends, who aver that she 
has written poetry quite equal to that referred to. It 
is quite certain that Mr. Butler has produced nothing 
so far that compares with " Nothing to Wear." 

A DIVINE ON HIS RIUSCLE. 

A Doctor of Divinity lives in the upper part of the 
city. He is fond of out-door exercise, and usually walks 
to his home. If he attends a meeting; late at nis-lit in 
the lower part of the city,he generally goes home on foot. 
At a time when garroters were plenty, he was attacked 
by a couple of ruffians late one night. Understanding 
something of the manly art, he disabled one of the 



In New York. ^ 347 

villains, and dragged tlie other to the station-house. 
He returned and secured the companion, and saw them 
safely locked up for the night. He appeared before 
the magistrate the next morning, and they were con- 
victed and sent to the penitentiary. The doctor con- 
tinues his lonely walks through the city late at night. 
It is said the gentlemen of the pave, who admire his 
pluck, give him a wide berth. 

BARNUM AND THE RECTOR. 

When Tom Thumb wns married, Barnum kept out 
of sight. It was not known that he had anything to 
do with the business. It was first intended to have 
the wedding in the Academy of Music on the ticket 
system, but the general would not submit to making a 
show of himself on that occasion, so that idea was 
abandoned. The bishop of New York was to have 
performed the ceremony. Grace Church was the 
fashionable altar at wdiich high New York exchanged 
its vows. It required some finesse and great skill to 
obtain that fashionable church for the marriage of the 
Liliputians. Barnum undertook to manage that him- 
self He was not known to the rector, so he Avent 
boldly into his presence and asked for the church. He 
said the wedding was to be of the most select character, 
tickets were to be given to the aristocracy, and the 
guests w^ere to come in full dress. The rector reluc- 
tantly consented. He appended to the consent certain 
conditions, which were put in writing, and if any one 
of the conditions were violated, the rector had a right 
to revoke his consent. Two conditions were expressly 
insisted upon. The first was that the church should 



o 



48 Sunshine and Shadow 



not be mentioned in connection with the affair nntil 
the morning of the wedding, though all New York 
knew it ten days before. " And now," said the rector, 
" don't you let that Barnum have anything to do with 
this matter. Don't let him know that I have given 
my consent to have Grace Church used. I wouldn't 
have Grace Church and Barnum bound up together 
for a thousand dollars." Barnum consented to all the 
conditions, and signed them on behalf of the agent, in 
whose name the affjiir was conducted. Great was the 
chagrin of the rector to learn that he had not only 
been outwitted by Barnum, but had entertained, 
beneath his own roof, the great showman himself! 

FUN AND PIETY. 

Genuine fun at times gets into the Fulton Street 
Prayer Meeting. Petitions from all sorts of persons 
are read, for all sorts of things. One was " for a young 
woman who had lost her first love." A person fre- 
quently took part who was in the habit of adding " er " 
after some words, such as, " Lord-er," " Hear our 
pray-er," " Come and bless us-er." Pie believed in 
falling from grace, and he had an eye to the young 
woman who had lost her first love. He arose to pray, 
and did so in this manner : " Lord-er, hear the pray-er 
of this young woman-er, who has lost her first lov-er." 
In each repetition of the word he called it " lov-er," 
and so emphasized the word "j^/'-s^f," that the case 
seemed particularly hard, from the fict that had it 
been the second lover she had lost, the affliction would 
not have seemed so great. The ardent prayer went 



In New York. 349 

forth that the lost lov-er might be restored. Grave 
faces relaxed and countenances, unused to smile 
in the house of the Lord could not resist the temp- 
tation. The idea of a stray lover being the theme 
of prayer was so comical, that no one could keep his 
face straight. 



350 Sunshine and Shadow 



XXXIX. 

NEW YEAR'S DAY IN NEW YORK. 

ITS ANTIQUITY. — THE PREPARATION. — THE TABLE. — THE DRESS OF THE 
LADIES. — THE RECEPTION. — NEW YEAR'S NIGHT. 

ITS ANTIQUITY. 

New York without New Year's would be like Rome 
without Christmcas. It is peculiarly Dutch, and is about 
the only institution which has survived the wreck of 
old New York. Christmas came in with Churchmen, 
Thanksgiving with the Yankees, but New Year's came 
with the first Dutchman that set his foot on the Island 
of Manhattan. It is a domestic festivity, in which sons 
and daughters, spiced rums and the old drinks of Hol- 
land, blend. The long-stemmed pipe is smoked, and 
the house is full of tobacco. With the genuine Knick- 
erbockers, New Year's commences with the «:oino* down 
of the sun on the last da}' of the year. Families have 
the frolic to themselves. Gayety, song, story, glee, 
rule the hours till New Year's comes in, then the 
salutations of the season are exchanged, and the 
families retire to prepare for the callers of the next 
day. Outsiders, who " receive " or " call," know noth- 
ing of the exhilaration and exuberant mirth which 
marks New Year's eve among Dutchmen. 



In New York. 351 



THE PREPARATION. 

The day is better kept than the Sabbath. The Jews, 
Germans, and foreigners unite with the natives in this 
festival. Trade closes, the press is suspended, the 
doctor and apothecary enjoy the day, — the only day of 
leisure during the year. It is the day of social atone- 
ment. Neglected social duties are performed ; acquaint- 
ances are kept up ; a whole year's neglect is wiped out 
by a proper call on New Year's. All classes and con- 
ditions of men have the run of fine dwellings and 
tables loaded with luxury. Wine flows free as the 
Croton, and costly liquors are to be had for the taking. 
Elegant ladies, in their most gorgeous and costly attire, 
welcome all comers, and press the bottle, with their 
most winning smile, upon the visitor, and urge him to 
fill himself with the good things. The preparation is a 
toilsome and an expensive thing. To receive bears 
heavily on the lady ; to do it in first-class style draws 
heavily on the family purse. A general house-cleaning, 
turning everything topsy-turvy, begins the operation. 
New furniture, carpets, curtains, constitute an upper- 
ten reception. No lady receives in style in any portion 
of dress that she has ever worn before, so the estab- 
lishment is littered with dressmaking from basement 
to attic. This, with baking, brewing, and roasting, 
keeps the whole house in a stir. 

THE TABLE. 

Great rivalry exists among people of style about 
the table — how it shall be set, the plate to cover it, 
the expense, and many other considerations thjit make 



352 Sunshine and Shadow 

the table the pride and plague of the season. To set 
well a New Year's table requires taste, patience, tact, 
and cash. It must contain ample provision for a hun- 
dred men. It must be loaded down with all the luxu- 
ries of the season, served up in the most costly and 
elegant style. Turkey, chickens, and game ; cake, 
fruits, and oysters -, lemonade, coffee, and whiskey ; 
brandy, wines, and — more than all, and above all — 
punch. This mysterious beverage is a New York in- 
stitution. To make it is a trade that few understand. 
Men go from house to house, on an enuraorement, to fill 
the punch bowl. Lemons, rum, cordials, honey, and 
mysterious mixtures, from mysterious bottles brought 
by the compounder, enter into this drink. So delicious 
is it, that for a man to be drunk on New Year's day 
from punch is not considered any disgrace. 

« 

DRESS OF THE LADIES. 

This is the most vexatious and troublesome of all the 
p)reparations for New Year's. Taste and genius ex- 
haust themselves in producing something fit to be 
worn. The mothers and daughters quarrel. Feathers, 
low-necked dresses, and gorgeous jewelry the matron 
takes to herself The daughters are not to be shown 
off as country cousins, or sisters of the youthful mother, 
and intend to take care of their own array. The con- 
test goes on step by step, mingled with tears of spite 
and sharp repartee till midnight, nor does the trouble 
then end. Few persons can be trusted to arrange the 
hair. Some parties keep an artist in the family. Those 
who do not, depend upon a fashionable hair-dresser, 
who, on New Y^ear's, literally has his hands full. Eu- 



In New York. 353 

gagements run along for weeks, beginning at the 
latest hour that full dressing will admit. These en- 
gagements run back to midnight on New Year's eve. 
Matron or maid must take the artist when he calls. 
As the peal of bells chimes out the Old Year, the door- 
bell rings in the hair-dresser. From twelve o'clock 
midnight till twelve o'clock noon, New Year's, the lady 
with the ornamented head-top maintains her upright 
position, like a sleepy traveller in a railroad car, because 
lying down under such circumstances is out of the 
question. The magnificent dresses of the ladies ; dia- 
monds owned, or hired for the occasion ; the newly- 
furnished house, adorned at great expense ; the table 
loaded with every luxury and elegance ; the ladies in 
their places; the colored servant at the door in his 
clerical outfit, — show that all things are ready for 

THE RECEPTION. 

The commonalty begin their calls about ten. The 
elite do not begin till noon, and wind up at midnight. 
Men who keep carriages use tliem, the only day in the 
year in which many merchants see the inside of their 
own coaches. Exorbitant prices are charged for hacks. 
Fifty dollars a day is a common demand. Corporations 
send out immense wagons, in which are placed bands 
of music, and from ten to twenty persons are drawn 
from place to place to make calls. The express com- 
panies turn out in great style. The city is all alive 
with men. It is a rare thino; to see a woman on the 
streets on New Year's day. It is not genteel, some- 
times not safe. Elegantly-dressed men, in yellow kids, 
are seen hurrying in all directions. They walk singly 



354 Sunshine and Shadow 

and in groups. Most every one has a list of calls in 
his hand. The great boast is to make many calls. 
From fifty to a hundred and fifty is considered a 
remarkable feat. Men drive up to the curbstone if 
they are in coaches, or run up the steps if they are on 
foot, give the bell a jerk, and walk in. The name of 
one of the callers may be slightly known. He is 
attended by half a dozen who are entirely unknown to 
the ladies, and whom they will probably never see 
again. A general introduction takes place ; the ladies 
bow ond invite to the table. A glass of wine or a mug 
of punch is poured down in haste, a few pickled oysters 
— the dish of dishes for New Year's — are bolted, and 
then the intellectual entertainment commences. " Fine 
day " — " Beautiful morning " — " Had many calls ? " — 
" Oysters first rate " — " Great institution this New 
Year's " — " Can't stay but a moment " — " Fifty calls to 
make " — " x\nother glass of punch ? " — " Don't care if 
I do " — " Good-mornintr." And this entertaininii; con- 
versation is repeated from house to house by those who 
call, till the doors are closed on business. Standing on 
Murray Hill, and looking down Fifth Avenue, with its 
sidewalks crowded with finely-dressed men, its street 
thronged with the gayest and most sumptuous equi- 
pages the city can boast, the whole looks like a carnival. 

NEW year's night. 

The drunkenness and debauchery of a New Year's in 
this city is a disgrace to the people. As night ap- 
proaches, callers rush into houses where the lights are 
brilliant, calling for strong drinks, while their flushed 
cheeks, swollen tongues, and unsteady gait tell what 



In New York. 355 

whiskey and punch have done for them. From dark 
till midnight the streets are noisy with the shouts of^ 
revellers. Gangs of well-dressed but drunken young 
men fill the air with glees, songs, oaths, and ribaldry. 
Fair ladies blush as their callers come reeling into the 
room, too unsteady to walk, and too drunk to be decent. 
Omnibuses are filled with shouting youngsters, who 
cannot hand their change to the driver, and old fellows 
who do not know the street they live in. Joined with 
the loud laughter, and shout, and song of the night, 
the discharge of pistols, the snap of crackers, and 
illuminations from street corners, become general. At 
midnight the calls end ; the doors are closed, the gas 
turned off, the ladies, wearied and disgusted, lay aside 
their gewgaws, very thankful that New Year's comes 
only once in the season. 



356 Sunshine and Shadow 



XL. 
CENTRAL PARK. 

ITS ORIGIN. — THE COMMISSION. — ITS INFLUENCE ON THE PEOPLE. — THH 
ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN. — THE PRIDE OF NEW YORK. 

ITS ORIGIN. 

It is not a little curious that the unsurpassed loca- 
tion of the Central Park owes its origin to a quarrel 
among politicians. It is difficult to conceive of a finer 
location. Its extent, central site, natural features, out- 
lets, drives, and attractions are exceeded by no similar 
enclosure in the world. In 1850, the legislature of 
New York entertained a bill for the purchase of a piece 
of unimproved land, known as Jones's Wood, for a public 
park. The party who introduced the bill was a senator 
from New York. An alderman of the city was his 
bitter opponent. After the bill had passed locating 
the park at Jones's Wood, the alderman called upon Mr. 
Kennedy, now General Superintendent of Police, at his 
store, to get him to unite in defeating the purchase. 
Mr. Kennedy had thought nothing of the bill. A map 
was brought and the site examined. The points made 
by the alderman were, that the senator who introduced 
the bill was interested, and would be largely profited 
by the sale. The plot was on the extreme eastern side 



In New York. 357 

of the city ; it was small, scarcely a dozen blocks ; a 
thick population bounded it on the south, Harlem shut 
it in on the north, the East River formed another 
boundary, and enlargement was impossible; besides, 
the price was enormous. 

While examining the maps, Mr. Kennedy pointed 
out the present site of the park. It was then one of 
the most abandoned and filthy spots of the city. It 
was covered with shanties, and filled with the most 
degraded of our population. The valleys reeked with 
corruption and every possible abomination. It was 
viler than a hog-pen, and the habitation of pestilence. 
As a place for building it was nearly worthless, as the 
grading of it w\as out of the c^uestion. As a site for a 
public park, its inequalities of hill and dale, its rocky 
promontories, and its variety of surface, made it every 
way desirable. The great point of the alderman was 
to defeat his political opponent and the bill for the 
purchase of Jones's Wood. The eminent fitness of the 
new spot was conceded at once. The omnipotent press 
joined in the new movement. The proposed name of 
Central Park was received with acclamiation. The 
purchase of Jones's Wood was annulled. The bill for 
the opening of Central Park passed. In 1856, the 
purchase was complete, and the work commenced. 

THE COMMISSION. 

At first the Central Park was a corporation^ matter. 
The city officials were so corrupt, that the friends of 
the measure refused to put it into the hands of the 
Common Council. The Aldermen, in city matters, were 
omnipotent. They were county ofdcers as well as city. 



358 Sunshine and Shadow 

If they sent a bill to the Council, and that body refused 
to concur, the Aldermen could meet as a Board of 
Supervisors, and pass the bill that the Council had 
rejected or the Mayor vetoed. The Legislature put 
the affairs of the Park into the hands of a Commission, 
made up of distinguished men, representing the great 
parties of the city. 

On receiving their appointment, the Commissioners 
called a meetinu; of the distino-uished citizens of New 
York to consult on the laying out of the Park. Wash- 
ington Irving took the chair. The models of Europe 
would not do for New York. This Park was not for 
royalty, for the nobility, nor the wealthy ; but for the 
people, of all classes and ranks. Drives, public and 
quiet ; roads for equestrians and for pedestrians ; plots 
for games and parades, for music and public receptions, 
must be secured. The main features that the Park 
now wears were adopted at that meeting. 

ITS INFLUENCE ON THE PEOPLE. 

The Park is two and a half miles long, a half mile 
wide, and comprises eight hundred and forty-three 
acres. The main drive, from Fifty-ninth Street along 
the Fifth Avenue, is seventy feet wide, with a footpath 
fifteen feet wide, and, with its Macadamized road-bed, is 
one of the finest in the world. Along its pathway, where 
three hundred miserable shanties were straggling, filled 
with squalid women, and ragged, and untamed children, 
with its hollows and ravines full of stagnant water and 
filthiness, with barren rocks, ofi'ensive and unsightly, 
now green velvet lawns greet the eye, choice flowers 
bloom, museums of taste and galleries of art stand, 



In New York. 359 

zoological gardens instruct and please, conservatories 
arise, and the grounds are studded with statuary and 
works of art, the gift of liberal friends. The old Arsenal, 
in the Park, is a gallery of art, free to the public. The 
widow of Crawford, the artist, presented to the Park 
the plaster casts from her husband's studio. Among 
the collection is the model of the famous statue of Wash- 
ington, at Richmond, with the colossal statues of Jeffer- 
son, Henry, Lee, Marshall, and other favorite sons of 
Virginia. The intelligent mechanical skill of this day 
is taking down the unsightly aqueduct wdiicli disfigures 
a portion of the Park, and is substituting underground 
mains, which are to take the place for miles of unsight- 
ly masonry. 

The whole influence of the Park has been to educate 
and elevate the public taste, and to inspire a love for 
the beautiful. The "transverse roads" that traverse the 
Park are a curiosity and an educator. Teams are driven 
across the Park, funerals, with their long line of car- 
riages, thousands of cattle for the market, and teams that 
no man can count ; yet all this is hidden from the eye of 
the visitors. These transverse roads aro canals walled 
in by solid masonry. They pass under the bridges of 
the Park, and, by an ingenious contrivance, are hidden 
from the eye by trees, grass, flowers, and groves. It is 
seldom that the grass is trodden upon or the flowers 
plucked. The pohce are everywhere to arrest fast 
driving, and all who commit breaches of the rules. 
Before the Park was opened horse flesh was at a dis- 
count, and was the derision of Boston, Philadelphia, and 
Baltimore. Fabulous sums have been paid for fine 
horses since the opening of the Park. AVhile driving 



360 Sunshine and Shadow 

is limited to six miles an hour within the enclosure, a 
fine boulevard has been opened by the Commissioners, 
where men may try the mettle of their teams if they 
will. A private trotting course on the road allows 
steeds to be trained. The road for fast horses is a con- 
tinuation of the Park to High Bridge. It is broad, 
level, and well Macadamized. It is the sight of sights 
on a pleasant afternoon. Here the notable men of 
New York can be seen in their glory. There is scarce- 
ly a horse noted for show, elegance, or speed that can- 
not here be seen on an afternoon. Fast old men, and 
fast 3^oung men, leaders of the bulls and bears on ex- 
change, stock speculators, millionnaires, railroad kings, 
bankers, book-men, and merchants, the bloods of the 
city, and all who can command a two-forty horse, appear 
on the drive. All is exhilaration; the road is full of dust; 
teams crowd the thoroughfare ; horses tear up and down, 
to the horror of nervous and timid people ; fast teams 
race with each other, and frequently interlock and 
smash up, while the tearing teams hold on their course, 
carrying terror and dismay along the whole road. 
Danger as well as excitement attends the drive. Some 
of the fastest teams are driven by men between sixty 
and seventy, who have all the enthusiasm of youth, 
and shout out their " Hi! hi's!" and other exclamations, 
so common to fast teams at their utmost speed. Some 
of the horses driven on this road cost from five to fifty 
thousand dollars, and could not be purchased at any 
price. 



In New York. 361 



THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN. 

Near the skating pond, which is the great attraction 
in the winter, a square has been laid out for a Zoologi- 
cal Garden. It is separated from the Park by the 
Eighth Avenue, but it is to be connected by a tunnel 
under the railroad. It has natural caves, which are to 
be dens for lions, bears, and wild beasts. It has natural 
lakes and ponds, and when completed will be one of 
the great attractions of the Park. The collections of 
wild beasts, birds, and rare and curious animals are al- 
ready very large. Donations to this department are 
numerous. This will be one of the richest collec- 
tions in the country. 



THE PRIDE OF NEW YORK. 

New Yorkers boast of their Park, and have good 
reason so to do. It is indeed beautiful for situation, 
and the Commissioners have built themselves a monu- 
ment in the tasteful and attractive manner in which 
they have performed their work. On a bare, unsightly, 
and disgusting spot, they have created an area of 
beauty, charming as the Garden of the Lord. Where 
not a tree or shrub was found, they have bidden a forest 
spring up, and have planted three hundred and twenty 
thousand eight hundred and forty-six shrubs and trees. 
The original cost of the Park was four million eight 
hundred and fifteen thousand six hundred and seventy- 
one dollars. The total cost, with the purchase and con- 
struction up to the last report, was nearly nine millions 
of dollars. The cost of construction and maintenance 
the past year was over five hundred thousand dollars. 



362 Sunshine and Shadow 

'-• 
The Park contains over seven miles of carriage road, 

six miles of bridle paths, and twenty miles of walks. 
On Saturday afternoon it is a sight to behold. It is 
the i)eople's day, and the people's Park. Tens of 
thousands, composed of the various nationalities of 
the city, assemble. Dodworth's band, from a gaudy 
Oriental pagoda, furnish the music. Immense awnings 
are stretched on all sides, under ■which the crowds sit 
in great comfort. The grass, close shaven by a 
machine, is open to the gambols of children. The 
crowd is composed of the millionnaire and the hod- 
carrier ; ragged newsboys and the Fifth Avenue 
exquisite ; ladies in the latest style, and female emi- 
grants just arrived ; madame flashing w^ith jewels, and 
the scrubbing-woman who cleans paint and washes 
linen ; vehicles of wondrous construction, and carriages 
that might have come out of the ark; the splendid 
turnouts, with servants in livery, and an old box- 
wagon, driven by a Jerseyman or a farmer from 
Long Island. 

The rules of the Park are very strict, and are rigidly 
enforced. Within hearing of the band no carriage 
can move while a piece of music is being played. 
About three o'clock, the crowd in carriages, on horse- 
back, and on foot, pour into the great pathw\ay that 
leads to the music stand, and from thence diverge 
into the different portions of the Park, filling the 
grottos, the rambles, plains, and hills, sailing on the 
lakes, feeding the swans, lolling in the summer-houses, 
and making a panorama of beauty, to see which is well 
worth making a visit to New York. 



In New York. 363 



XLI. 

SCHOOL OF INSTRUCTION FOR THE 
METROPOLITAN POLICE. 

The efficiency of the New York police is largely in- 
debted to the School of Listruction. This department 
is under the charge of Mr. Leonard, who, for twenty- 
three years, has been a member of the police. He is 
eminently qualified for the task committed to him. He 
is tall, with a fine frame, a genial, intelligent face, a 
gentlemanly bearing, and is one of the most efficient 
and accomplished officers in New York. He is every 
inch a gentleman, and has been an inspector of the 
force since the rank was created. 

When a man is appointed on the force, he is im- 
mediately assigned to duty. But for the period of 
thirty days he has to appear at the School of Instruc- 
tion daily. A book of laws is put into his hands, and 
he must make himself familiar with its contents. He 
is then examined in every thing pertaining to his 
duties. He must be civil, decorous, use no insulting 
word ; must not drink, nor visit places where liqnor is 
sold ; must not smoke nor read on duty, nor withdraw 
a complaint; must keep a memorandum-book ; must 
accept no money from a citizen ; must not assist an 
officer to prosecute a civil case ; must take off his 



364 Sunshine and Shadow 

clothes at night, put on iinder-clothes, and keep his 
room ventilated ; arrest vagrants ; and, while enjoying 
his own political and religious opinions, be a delegate 
to no political convention ; salute his superiors ; try all 
the doors ; must not be found off his post ; must not 
talk to citizens ; not visit his own house while on duty ; 
report all nuisances thrown into the street ; arrest men 
who attempt to steal, or commit assault, or carry slung 
shot ; arrest all who are fighting, brawling, or threaten- 
ing, or violate decency ; arrest an omnibus driver for 
loitering, or a carman who has no number on his cart, 
or a hackman who is extortionate, or drivers of vans or 
wagons who go over six miles an hour. Such are some 
of the lessons learned in the school. Over one thou- 
sand nine hundred men have been instructed in this 
school within three years. When the men go out to 
their duties, they know exactly what they have to do, 
and know that the Commissioners will sustain them in 
the prompt, bold, and faithful performance of it. 



In New York. 365 



XLII. 
LIFE AMONG THE LOWLY. 

INTERESTING FACTS, GIVEN TO THE WRITER BY REV. S. P. HALLIDAT, SUPER- 
INTENDENT OF FIVE POINTS HOUSE OF INDUSTRY. - HOMES OF THE 
LOWLY. —A NIGHT TRAMP. — BAREFOOTED BEGGAR. — A STREET BOY. 
— A SAD SCENE. — GENTEEL SUFFERING. 

HOMES OF THE LOWLY. 

The extreme value of land in the city makes tene- 
ment-houses a necessity. Usually they occupy a lot 
twenty-five by one hundred feet, six stories high, with 
apartments for four families on each floor. These 
houses resemble barracks more than dwellings for 
flunilies. One standing on a lot fifty by two hundred 
and fifty feet has apartments for one hundred and 
twenty-six flimilies. Nearly all the apartments are so 
situated that the sun can never touch the windows. 
Li a cloudy day it is impossible to have sunlight enough 
to read or see. A narrow room and bedroom comprise 
an apartment. Families keep boarders in these narrow 
quarters. Two or three families live in one apartment 
frequently. Not one of the one hundred and twenty- 
six rooms can be properly ventilated. The vaults and 
water-closets are disgusting and shameful. They are 
accessible not only to the five or six hundred occu- 
pants of the building, but to all who choose to go m 



366 Sunshine and Shadow 

from the street. The water-closets are without doors, 
and privacy is impossible. Into these vaults every 
imaginable abomination is poured. The doors from 
the cellar open in the vault, and the whole house is 
impregnated with a stench that would poison cattle. 

A NIGHT TRAMP. 

With a lantern and an officer, a visit to the cellars 
where the poor of New York sleep may be undertaken 
with safety. Fetid odors and pestiferous smells greet 
you as you descend. There bunks are built on the 
side of the room ; beds filthier than can be imagined, 
and crowded with occupants. No regard is paid to age 
or sex. Men, women, and children are huddled 
together in one disgusting mass. Without a breath 
of air from without, these holes are hot-beds of pesti- 
lence. The landlord was asked, in one cellar, " How 
many can 3'ou lodge ? " " We can lodge twenty-five ; 
if we crowd, perhaps thirty." 

The lodgers in these filthy dens seem to be lost to 
all moral feeling, and to all sense of shame. They are 
not as decent as the brutes. Drunken men, debased 
women, young girls, helpless children, are packed 
together in a filthy, under-ground room, destitute of 
light or ventilation, reeking with filth, and surrounded 
with a poisoned atmosphere. The decencies of life are 
abandoned, and blasj)hemy and ribald talk fill the place. 

BAREFOOTED BEGGAR. 

On one of the coldest days of winter two girls were 
seen on Broadway soliciting alms. The larger of the 
two awakened sympathy by her destitute appearance. 



In New York. 367 

An old hood covered her head, a miserable shawl her 
shoulders. Her shivermg form was enveloped in a 
nearly worn-out dress, which was very short, exposing 
the lower part of her limbs and feet. She had on 
neither shoes nor stockings. Nearly every person that 
passed the girl gave her something. Beheving they, 
were impostors, Mr. Halliday approached them, and 
demanded where they lived. On being told, he pro- 
po^ed to attend them home. They misled hnn as to 
their residence. They attempted to elude hnn, and at 
leno-th the younger said, " Mister, there is no use gomg 
any farther this way ; she don't live on Fifty-thn^d 
Street, she lives on Twelfth Street, and she has got 
shoes and stockings under her shawl." She was taken 
before a magistrate, and committed to the Juvenile 
Asylum. 

A STREET BOY. 

It is estimated that there are over ten thousand 
street boys in New York. They swarm along our 
parks, markets, and landings, stealing sugar, molasses, 
cotton. They steal anything they can lay their hands 
on They prowl through the streets, ready for mis- 
chief Mr. Halliday gives an interesting account of 
one of this class. He was the son of a widow He 
played truant, and became a regular young vagabond. 
He was one of the young Arabs of the city. Mr. Halli- 
day resolved to save him. He introduced him into the 
Home of the Friendless. He ran away, and resumed ins 
Arab life. He was sought for, and found on one of the 
wharves. The following dialogue took place : Where 
have you been, Willie?" " Nowhere, sir. Wha^ 

have you been doing since you ran away from the 



3G8 Sunshine and Shadow 

Home ? " " Nothing, sir." " What have you had to 
eat ? " " Nothing, sir." " What ! have you eaten 
nothing these two days ? " " No, sir." " What was 
that that fell out of your hand just now when you 
struck against your brother ? " "A soda-water bottle." 
« Where did you get it ? " « I stole it." " What were 
you going to do with it ? " " Sell it." " What were 
you going to do with the money ? " " Buy something 
to eat." " Are you hungry ? " ' " Yes, sir." " Where 
have you staid since you left the Home ? " " On 
Tenth Street." " Whose house did you stay in ? " 
" Nobody's." " No one's house ? " " No, sir." It had 
rained very hard the night previous, and I asked 
again, " Where did you stay last night ? " " Corner 
of Avenue A and Tenth Street." " Whose house did 
you stay in?" "No one's." "But you told me just 
now you stopped last night corner of Avenue A and 
Tenth Street." "So I did." "And you slept in no 
one's house?" "No, sir." "Where did you sleep, 
then ? " " In a sugar-box." " In a sugar-box ? " " Yes, 
sir." " Did you not get wet with the rain ? " " Yes, sir.'* 
" How did you get your clothes dry ? " " Stood up in 
the sun until they were dry." He was again placed in 
the Home of the Friendless ; again ran away ; and 
finally was put into the Refuge, as all kindness seemed 
to be lost upon him. 

A SAD SCENE. 

In the so-called chapel of the prison sits a little girl 
amid a throng of dirty, drunken women. She is small, 
•and only seven years of age. Her story is told, in a 
single line — her father is in the Tombs, her mother is 



In New York. 369 

at the station-house. What she calls her home is a 
single room, nine feet under ground, without fire, 
though the thermometer is at zero. A portion of an 
old bedstead, a broken tick part full of straw, with a 
pillow, on which are marks of blood, lies upon the floor. 
The father was a cartman. He came home one nicht 
drunk and brutal, and knocked his wife down with a 
heavy stick. Afterwards he stamped upon her with 
his heavy boots, until she was unal^le to speak. The 
woman died, and the man w'as arrested. The little o-irl 
was sent to the Tombs as a witness, and was placed 
imder the care of the matron. When the trial came on, 
it was decided that the little girl was too young to 
testify. The man pleaded guilty of manslaughter, and 
was sent to the State Prison. It was a happy day for 
little Katy when she sat on the bench with those 
miserable women hearing a sermon preached. She 
found a kind friend in Mr. Halliday, and throuo;h him 
obtained a happy western home. 

GENTEEL SUFFERING. 

Sudden reverses reduce well-to-do people to poverty. 
Sickness comes into a household like an armed man. 
Death strikes down a flither, and leaves a family penni- 
less. One day a lady of very genteel appearance 
called at the Mission. Bursting into tears, she said to 
the superintendent, " Sir, I have come to ask for assist- 
ance, It is the first time in my life. I would not now, 
but I have been driven to it. I could bear hunger and 
cold myself, but I could not hear my cliildren cry for 
bread. For twenty-four hours I have not had a mouth- 
ful for myself or them. While there was work, I could 

24 



370 Sunshine and Shadow 

get along tolerably well. I have had none for some 
time ; now I must beg, or my children starve." Her 
husband had been a mechanic. He had come to New 
York from the country. The fimily lived in comfort 
till sickness stopjoed their resources, and death struck 
the father down. The mother attempted to keep her 
little familj' together, and support them by her own labor. 
Five years she had toiled, planned, and suffered. Her 
earnings were small, and from time to time she sold 
articles of furniture to give her children bread. Over- 
exertion, long walks in rain and cold to obtain work, 
insufficient clothing, want of nutritious food, with 
anxiety for her children, prostrated her. She was 
obliged to call for aid on some of our benevolent insti- 
tutions. She is a specimen of hundreds of noble suffer- 
ing women in New York. 



In New York. 371 



XLIII. 

SOCIAL EVIL IN NEW YORK. 

EXTENT OF PUBLIC PROSTITUTION. AN OFFICIAL STATEMENT FROM HON. JOHN 

A. KENNEDY, SUPERINTENDENT OF THE METROPOLITAN POLICE. HOUSES OP 

THE FIRST CLASS. HOW THEY ARE FILLED. AGENTS AND RUNNERS. 

STARTLING FACTS. VICTIMS FROM NEW ENGLAND. A NIGHT ENCOUNTER. 

A mayor's EXPERIENCE. — HOPELESS CLASSES. 

EXTENT OF PUBLIC PROSTITUTION. 

Public "vice is not as general as is commonly sup- 
posed. It is one of the things that can be easily estimated. 
It is not like gambling, done in a corner. People who 
keep houses of ill-repute have no motive to keep their 
trade and houses a secret. The police do not meddle 
with such, unless they are noisy, disturb the peace, or 
become a public nuisance. The keepers of such resorts 
seek Custom, and take all possible pains to make their 
establishments known. All the public houses of prosti- 
tution are known to the authorities. 

In January, 1864, there were, in the city of New 
Y^ork, five hundred and ninety-nine houses of prostitu- 
tion, of all grades, two thousand one hundred and 
twenty-three prostitutes, and seventy-two concert sa- 
loons of bad repute. In January, 1866, there were 
six hundred and fifteen houses of prostitution, ninety- 



372 Sunshine and Shadow 

nine houses of assignation, seventy-five concert saloons 
of bad repute, two thousand six hundred and ninety 
prostitutes, six hundred and twenty waiter girls of the 
same bad character, and one hundred and twenty-seven 
bar-maids, also vile girls. The increase of 18G6 over 
18G4 is accounted for in the difference between w^ar 
and peace. The followers of the camp were with the 
army in 1864. In 1866 the soldier was at home, and 
the prostitutes were thrown on the town. In January, 
1867, there w^ere five hundred and sixtv-eio-ht houses 
of prostitution, two thousand five hundred and sixty- 
one prostitutes, thirty-eight concert saloons of ill repute, 
three hundred and thirty-six waiter girls, and the 
average will be about the same for the entire year. 
New York has an estimated population of from nine 
hundred thousand to one million, and such is the 
extent of public ^prostitution in comparison to the 
population ! 

MR. Kennedy's statement. 

A most extraordinary statement was made public of 
the terrible ravages and extent of prostitution in New 
York. Bishop Simpson, of the Methodist Church, stated 
in Cooper Institute, that the number of public prosti- 
tutes in the city equalled in number the membershiio of 
the Methodist Church. The attention of Superintend- 
ent Kennedy was called to these statements, and he 
was requested to say whether they were true. In 
answer, he writes as follows, which I take, by per- 
mission, from the private files of the Superintendent's 
department : — 



In New York. 373 

** Office of the Superintendent of Metropolitan Police, ^ 

300 Mulberry Street, C 

New York, January 22, 18G6. ) 

" My dear Sir : Your note of to-dav is before me, with 
the printed sheet of the ' Great MetropoUs Condensed/ 
inquiring whether the figures in the paragraph marked 
' Licentiousness ' can be verified. I have to say that I 
have nothing in my possession to sustain such mon- 
strous statements. During the past fall I had a care- 
ful examination made of the concert saloons in this 
city, for the purpose of using the result in our annual 
report ; which you will find in the leading dailies of 
Friday, January 5, instant. At that time we found 
eleven hundred and ninetj'-one waiter girls emplojxMl 
in two hundred and twenty-three concert and drinking 
saloons. Although much the greater part of these girls 
are already prostitutes, yet we have evidence they are 
not all such ; but continuation at the employment 

is sure to make them all alike. Previous to that I 

« 

had not made any census of persons of that character 
since January 24, 1864, when the footing was as fol- 
lows : — 

"Houses of prostitution, five hundred and ninety- 
nine. Public prostitutes, two thousand one hundred 
and twenty-three. Concert saloons of ill repute, seventy- 
two. The number of waiting girls was not then taken. 

"The newspapers of last week, in reporting Bishop 
Simpson's speech delivered in St. Paul's Church, made 
him say that there are twenty thousand prostitutes in 
New Y^ork. I felt it to be about time to correct the 
impressions of such well-meaning men as he, and on 
Thursday last I sent out an order, instructing a new 



374 Sunshine and Shadow 

census to be made. I have nearly all the returns in, 
and find a much less increase than I expected. A 
large number who have been following the army 
during the war, very naturally have gravitated to this 
city. Where else would they go? But with all that, 
the increase is below my estimate. On the 22d day of 
January, 1866, the report is as follows : — 

" Houses of prostitution, six hundred and twenty-one. 
Houses of assignation, ninety-nine. Concert saloons of 
ill repute, seventy-five. Public prostitutes, two thousand 
six hundred and seventy. Waiter girls in concert and 
drinking saloons, seven hundred and forty-seven. 

" YoQ will see that houses of prostitution have 
increased twenty-two in two years, and houses of 
assignation have decreased thirteen. Concert saloons 
have increased four. Prostitutes have increased five 
hundred and forty-seven. The waiter girls will be 
increased by the figures to come in. 

" As it regards ' other women,' we have no means of 
knowing anything of their number. That there are 
many of them cannot be disputed ; the number of 
houses for their accommodation tells us that ; but there 
is no such number as tw^o thousand five hundred, you 
may depend on it, visit those places; and of those 
who do, the waiter girls furnish the larger portion. 

" So that, taking all the public prostitutes, and 
all the waiter girls in music saloons (and these we 
have to a unit), there are but three thousand three 
hundred. 

"Medical estimates are humbug-s, from Dr. D. M. 
Peeves down to Dr. Sanger. According to Dr. Peeves, 
every female in the city over thirteen years of age 



In New York. 375 

was required, to fill up his estimate of lewd women, 
and Sanger is but little more reasonable. 

" Very respecfully, yours, 

"John A. Kennedy." 

HOUSES OF THE FIRST CLASS. 

These are few. No hotel is more elegantly furnished. 
Quiet, order, and taste abound. The lady boarders 
in these houses never walk the streets nor solicit 
company. They are selected for their beauty, grace, 
and accomplishments. They dress in great elegance, 
and quite as decorously as females generally do at balls, 
parties, or at concerts. Meet them in the streets, or at 
picture galleries, or at a fashionable soiree, and there is 
nothing about them to attract attention. No person 
who knows them or their character can in any way 
recognize them in public. These women have their 
pew in a fiishionable church ; some attend Sunday 
school, and have their own religious homes. Every- 
thing about the house is elegant. The door swings on 
well-oiled hinges. The bell is answered by a colored 
.servant, and nearly all' the servants are colored. They 
are quiet, mind their own business, and are known to 
be servants. All that grace and attraction can do to 
secure visits is employed. None but men who can 
afford to pay a first-class price visit a first-class house. 
The woman who is at the head of the establishment is 
one that has passed middle life, and is usually well 
preserved. She bears some foreign name, and has a 
person about the house that is called her husband. It 
is not uncommon for some so-called Count, Baron, or 
Consul; from some foreign powder, to be, or pretend to 



376 Sunshine and Shadow ^ 

be, the lawful guardian of the woman. If a gentleman 
calls, he is at once ushered into the parlor. If two 
gentlemen enter together, both are presented to the 
parlor. But no other gentleman can enter while they 
remain. If any one leaves the house from up stairs, 
the parlor door is shut and guarded. No one looks out, 
and no one looks in. Such are the inexorable rules of 
the house. The visitor is received by the madam in 
whose name the mansion is kept. One by one the 
lady boarders drop in. Conversation becomes general 
and spirited. Some remarks are rather broad. There 
is little to dispel the illusion that one is on a call at a 
first-class boarding-school or seminary. As the evening 
wanes, and wine flows, the talk becomes bolder. Home, 
early days, childhood, mother, the school of girlish 
hours, the Sabbath, the Sunday school, the home pastor, 
their style of life, what the world thinks of them, how , 
absolutely they are cut off from society, and barred out 
as if le^Ders, — are themes of conversation. Some are 
girls of superior mind. Some have had fortunes 
lavished on their education. Some can sing and play ex- 
quisitel}^ Operas, songs, ballads, snatches of hymns, are 
trolled off with great skill. Many support their parents 
in fine style. Some have children that were borne to 
them when they were happy wives. These children 
have usually no knowledge of their mother's shame. 
They are at fashionable boarding-schools, and are brought 
lip at great expense, and are told that their mother is 
in a foreign land, or is married to a man of wealth. 
Some mothers wdio are supported by the infamy of 
children know, and some do not know, of the great 
degradation of their dear ones. 



In New York. 377 



THE KEEPER. 

The woman who keeps the house keeps also a strict 
watch on all her boarders. She knows who comes and 
goes, the sum that is paid, and exacts of all her tribute. 
What with board, and dues paid for the privilege of the 
house, the costliness of the dress and ornaments that 
must be worn, the services of a hair-dresser, and cos- 
metics, coach hire, and the dash and display for which 
many of these girls have left pleasant homes, and bade 
adieu to a virtuous life, and all its honors and com- 
forts, they have but little left. They lay up generally 
nothing. Their hold on gay life is very short, seldom 
continuing more than three years, and some breaking 
down in six months. They then commence the down- 
w\ard path of the road in which they have entered. 
The next step follows, — poorer houses, meaner dresses, 
coarser fare, rougher compan}^, and stronger drinks. 
Then comes street-walking, low brothels, concert 
saloons, dance cellars, disease, Blackwell's Island, a few 
months of misery, and then death. The petted and 
giddy creatures, to whom the flowery path and seduc- 
tive way is for a month or two so fascinating, cannot 
believe that rough winds can ever blow upon them, or 
that a rough word can ever be spoken, or want and 
sorrow can roll their black surfjres over them. While 
in their beauty and prime no creatures can be more 
tenderly cared for. The woman who is their mistress 
has every motive to treat them tenderly. Their health 
and beauty are her capital. She makes merchandise 
of their flesh and blood. She employs the best of 
masters for music and dances. The table is loaded 



378 Sunshine and Shadow 

with luxuries. Nothing is too elegant or costly. The 
health of the girls is closel}^ and anxiously watched. 
Their exercise and airings are carefully attended to. 
They are kept cheerful and buoyant. The deceived 
and infatuated creatures fancy that this will always 
last. But when sickness comes, and charms fade ; 
when new comers are introduced, and the w^an and 
faded women are j)ut in contrast, the arrow enters into 
their soul ; when they cease to be attractive, and call 
visitors to the house no more, the door is opened and 
.they are told to go. No tears, no pleas, avail. Women 
that are moved by tears do not dwell under such roofs. 
Out these poor girls go, without a penny. Almost 
always they are brought in debt, and so much of their 
finery as will do for the new comers is retained. For 
the expelled there is no redress. The pavement is her 
home. The glare of the druggist's window suggests 
poison. The ripple of the black Hudson suggests 
suicide. Some one picks her up on the pave at night, 
and her low walk with the low women of her class 
commences. 

HOW THEY ARE FILLED. 

The short life and brief career of women who fill 
wdiat are known as first-class boarding-houses for young- 
ladies is one of the flicts of which there is no dispute. 
Officers wdiose duties take them occasionally to these 
places say that once in about two or three months the 
company wholly changes ; and when they ask for 
persons whom they saw on their last visit, an indefinite 
answ^er is given, and an unwillingness manifested to 
tell what has become of their associates. Some feign 
reform, many die of sickness, by the hand of criminal 



. In New York. 379 

practitioner, by suicide ; maii}^ begin tbe dark tramp 
down that path that ends in death. We know from 
what source comes the supply for low stews, vile brothels, 
concert saloons, and dance houses ; for where the beast- 
ly and drunken resort, multitudes can be found. But 
from whence conies this unceasing supply of brilliant, 
well-educated, accomplished, attractive, and beautiful 
young girls ? They are found, as they are wanted, for 
the houses of fashionable infamy. They come, many 
of them, from the best homes in the land ; from care- 
ful parentage and pious families ; from fishionable 
boarding-schools ; from seminaries of learning ; from 
Sunday schools ; from the rural cottages of Maine 
and Vermont ; from Chicago, Richmond, and California ; 
from all parts of the civilized world. 

AGENTS AND RUNT^ERS. 

Men and women are employed in this nefarious work 
as really as persons are round the country to hunt up 
likely horses ; and when the victim is uncommonly 
attractive the pay is large. No system is better ar- 
ranged with bankers, express-men, runners, and agents. 
No place is so distant, no town so obscure, that these 
panderers do not enter it. They are at concerts, on 
the railroad, at theatres, at church, at fashionable 
resorts in the summer, and at seminary graduations. 
They hang about hotels, under pretence of being 
strangers to New York; they get acquainted with 
young lady visitors, invite them to church, to a walk, 
to the opera, and, when confidence is gained, they are 
invited to call at the house of an acquaintance ; and, 
after a pleasant evening, they wake up in the morning 



380 Sunshine and Shadow 

to know that they have been drugged and ruined, and 
that their parents are in despair. In some seminaries 
of learning in this city letters are constantly exchanged, 
signals swing out of the blinds by means of ribbons of 
different hues, and appointments made and kept. If a 
daughter is missing from New York, or from a radius 
of twenty miles around, the police know usually where 
to look for the erring child, if she has not eloped. 

THRILLING CASES. 

In one of the most attractive of these houses of bad 
resort there is, at this moment, a young woman of 
surpassing beauty. Her form is queenly. She would 
make a sensation in any fashionable soiree or watering- 
place in the land. She dresses in elegant style and 
with exquisite taste. Her complexion is alabaster ; 
her hair raven black, flowing in natural ringlets. Her 
voice is superb, and as a singer she could command a 
large salary. On the boards of a theatre she would 
move without a rival. Her accomplishments are varied. 
She can sing with ease and skill the most difficult 
music of the best masters. She can paint and embroider, 
and the specimens of her skill are exhibited to her ad- 
mirers at the house where she resides. She has a 
finished educatioi>, and could fill and adorn any station 
in life. She has a parentage the most respected, who 
reside among the noble of New England. Their repute 
and family honor, till now, have been without a stain. 
Apparently happy in her home, and virtuous and 
modest, she left the Seminary, where she had nearly 
reached the honor of graduation, and where she was at 
the head of the school, and one night was not to be 



In New Yoek. 381 

found. Her absence was the cause of great distress. 
Months passed, and no knowledge of her residence was 
obtained. At length the sad fact was revealed that 
she was a lady boarder in a house of ill repute in New 
York. When she entered that abode, she resolutely 
shut the door in the face of all who knew and loved 
her. Father, mother, sister, friends, besieged the door 
in vain. Deaf to all entreaties, and hardened to sobs 
and tears, she refused to look on the face of 
the mother who bore her, and those to whom she is 
still dear. To all she had l)ut one answer, — " Think of 
me only as one that is dead," Yet she will talk of 
home, and dear ones of olden da3^s ; will sigh, and wipe 
the tear away, if any one seems to have a heart of 
sympath3\ But the mystery of her course ; what led 
her to fling away the great gifts God gave her ; how 
she came to know of that way of "life ; what her first 
wrong step was ; who aided her in her bad descent ; 
why she does not fly from the life she evidently loathes, 
and find refugee in the home of her childhood, to her 
mother's arms, that are still wide open to receive her, 
— all this is a secret locked in her own bosom. Soon 
her sunny day-dream will close. The bleak winds of 
winter will blow on that form trained to tenderness 
and reared in delicacy, and her feet will stumble on the 
dark mountains, with no one to help or heed her bitter 
cry. 

STARTLING FACTS. 

There is another case sadder and more mysterious 
than the one just related. In one of the Broadway 
houses can be seen a young lady about seventeen, but 
so fradle and so girlish that she seems scarcely twelve. 



382 Sunshine and Shadow 

Small and genteel in figure, she appears only a child. 
She has a remarkable forehead of great breadth, an 
eye searching and keen, and her smartness and talent 
are marked. She is the belle of the house, and, looking 
on her, one can easily see — what was the fact — that 
she was the sunshine of her home. She belono-s to 
New York. Her father and mother are persons of 
rare intelhgence, of unquestioned piety, and high 
social position. They are rich, and live in good style. 
On this child they lavished the tenderest care. No 
mone}^ was spared to give her a complete and polished 
education. Her voice is superb, and her execution 
marvellous. Her home was not sad and hard, but 
sunny. She was the morning light and evening star 
of the fireside which she adorned. She was the pride 
of her parents, the ornament of the social circle that 
was proud to call her companion. From her youth 
she was trained in the Scriptures. At the family altar 
daily she was accustomed to kneel, and till she left the 
roof of her mother she had attended Sunday school 
from her childhood. She seemed to have no sorrow 
nor cause of grief Her company was unexceptionable. 
No open act of hers, and no word uttered, betrayed 
anything but a virtuous heart and a pious life. One 
afternoon she did not come home from Sunday school 
as usual. The evening came, night rolled its heavy 
moments along, and the darling came not. Agony laid 
the mother on her bed, helpless. The father searched 
New York over, but the lost one could not be found. 
To the suggestion of shrewd detectives, that perhaps 
she would be found in a house of low resort, the fomijy 
could only utter their horror. Like Jacob, they knew 



In New York. 383 

their darling must be dead. Leading a life of inHimy ? 
Never ! With a likeness of the missinu; dauiirhter, and 
an accurate description, the matter-of-fact officers 
started on their search. The first house they entered 
they saw a young girl who resembled the lost one. On 
inquiry, they found she came to the house on Sunday 
afternoon ; told her name ; said she came from a Sun- 
day school ; hung up her bonnet and cloak, as if they 
were to be trophies to the goddess of infamy ; demanded 
and received garments suited to her new life ; and, 
coming fresh from the Sunday school, entered on her 
career of inflimy. Satisfied that the lost child had 
been found, the officer said to the father, '' Come and 
see if this be thy child or no." With a heavy heart 
and unsteady step the forlorn and bereaved father fol- 
lowed the detective. He shrank from the entrance, as 
if the portals really led to hell. The daughter met 
him at the door, flung her arms about him, and gave 
him a passionate kiss. Then she seated herself, with 
hands folded, head declined, and eyes fastened on the 
floor. She heard all that was said; she spake no 
word ; made no explanation ; confessed no act ; re- 
vealed no temptation, and refused to explain why she 
had adopted her new course of life. To all entreaties, 
tears, and prayers she was. indifferent. Nothing could 
move her. Iler mother came to see her, and the girl 
threw herself on the bosom where her head had so 
often lain in joy and sorrow, and in a passionate 
burst of anguish shed scalding and bitter tears. To all 
inquiries how she came to that place, and who led her 
astray, she would answer not a word. To all entreaties 
to come home, and all should be forgotten and for- 



384 Sunshine and Shadow 

given, she made but one reply, — " 0, mother, it is too 
late ! too late ! " But from the house where she was 
she refused to move. Once in a while she o-oes 
home, hangs up her hat and shawl on the old nail, 
throws herself on the bosom of her mother, and weeps 
and sobs. But when the time comes for her to go, she 
wipes away her tears, puts on her hat, kisses her mother 
a good bye, and departs. Prayers, tears, promises, 
offers of reward, all have been used in vain. In her 
home of infamy she often talks of her girlish days; of 
her superintendent and teacher. She speaks of the 
church that she attended as " our church ; " names the 
pastor with terms of endearment, and makes special 
mention of the missionary of the church, who is still in 
the field, to whom she seemed to be specially attached. 
And these are but specimens of what can be found in 
Kew York. 

VICTIJIS FROM NEW ENGLAND. 

A very large number of the girls on the town come 
from New England. Maine furnishes the largest share, 
as the statistics of prostitution show. Many can find 
no employment at home, and seek this gre.at city for 
something to do. They have no idea how all ranks of 
labor are crowded, nor how hard it is to find respecta- 
ble employment ; how few can be trusted ; what hot- 
beds of temptation fiictories are, and places where a 
large number of young girls find work. Many are 
tempted, and fill in their homes. They know that 
there is no mercy for them there. Their mother and 
sisters will abandon them, and so. they flee to a place 
in which they can hide in the solitude of the multi- 
tude. 



In New York. 385 



A NIGHT ENCOUNTER. 

Two gentlomen, of the highest respectabiUty, were 
walking on Broadway quite late one night, and they 
were accosted by a young girl who seemed less than 
thirteen. She was thinly clad, and was in feeble 
health. The two gentlemen commenced a conversa- 
tion with the girl, and learned from her lips this story. 
She was from the State of Yermont, and of good 
parentage. Her father was a farmer, and her mother 
and family stood high in the town in which they lived. 
A young man from the city came to pass the winter 
near her home. Sin o;ing; schools and meeting's brouo;ht 
him into her society. He declared his intentions to be 
honorable, and made proposals for marriage. Her 
parents knew little of the young man, and were not 
friendly to his attentions. The young lovers met in 
secret, and finallv fled from the town. Her dav-dreara 
of love soon ended, and, deserted, she went on the town. 
She loathed the life she led. But want and starvation 
were on the one hand, and infamy on the other. She 
had led her life but a few weeks, and had sought for 



work and a chance to make an honest living, but in 
vain. Her parents knew not of her whereabouts, nor 
did the widow with whom she boarded know that slic 
was leading a life of infamj^ She led the gentlemen 
to the door of a very quiet, respectable house, and told 
them that was her home. They promised to call and 
see her the next evening, and aid her to escape from 
the life she abhorred. They called at the time pro- 
posed, and were conducted to the room designated. It 
was in complete order. By the side of the girl was a 

25 



3SG Sunshine and Shadow 

small table, and on a white cloth lay a small Bible, the 
gift, she said, of her mother; and she stated that she 
never lay down to rest at night till, as in her childhood's 
happy home days, she had read a portion of God's 
word. She talked calmly about her position and life, 
but it was the calmness of despair, with the tone of 
one whose destiny was settled, and wdiose lot was 
inevitably fixed. To all entreaty, she replied, " It is 
now too late. I could not endure the cold pity of my 
mother, or the scorn of my sisters, or the taunts of 
my former associates. To my bitter tears and burning 
confessions they would give an incredulous ear, and 
among them I must ever v»*alk a lost woman. I know 
that my life will be a short one. My health is very 
poor, and growing worse from day to day. I am not 
fitted for the life I lead. Let me alone. To all who 
once loved me I am as one dead. I shall die alone, 
and have a pauper's burial." 

A mayor's experience. 

One of the former mayors of New York, a gentleman 
of warm heart and great benevolence, had a case 
brono-ht before him while in office. It was that of 
quite a young girl, intelligent and well educated, and 
not sixteen years of age. She would not tell her 
name, or reveal the name of the town in which her 
parents resided. The mayor resolved to save her if he 
could. He tried to persuade her to abandon her life, 
get some honest employment, and make a new stand 
in a virtuous course. He used all the arguments, 
reasons, and motives that he could command. With 
great coolness she replied to them all, " I know all 



In New York. 38 



you say — the deep degradation into which I have 
fallen. But 1 have no relief, no home, no hand to help 
me rise. I am a good musician ; I am a neat and com- 
petent seamstress. Twice I have gained a situation, 
have resolved to amend my life, and have behaved my- 
self with circumspection. But in each case some one 
that knew my former life has told the story of my past 
degradation, and so hurled me back to infamy. You 
have daughters, have you not ? " she said to the mayor. 
'• I have," was the ans\Yer. " Will you trust me as a seam- 
stress in your family with wdiat you now know of me ? 
Would you feel safe to allow me to be the companion 
of those dauirhters after the life I have led?" The 
mayor hesitated. With great bitterness and much 
feeling, she replied, '• Don't speak. I know what you 
w^ould say. I don't blame you ; but if, with your kind, 
generous heart, with your desire to do me good and 
save me, you can't trust me, who will ? " She went 
out to continue in that way that so soon ends in a 
black and hopeless night. 

HOPELESS CLASSES. 

Hopeless indeed seems the condition of fldlen woman. 
Men can reform ; society welcomes them back to the 
path of virtue ; a veil is cast over their conduct, and 
their vows of amendment are accepted, and then' 
promises to reform hailed with great delight. But alas 
for" man's victims ! For them there are no calls to come 
home, no sheltering arm, no acceptance of confessions 
and promises to amend. We may call them the hope- 
less classes. For all offence beside we have hope.. 
The drunkard can dash down his cup, and the murderer 



388 Sunshine and Shadow 

repent on the gallows. But for fiillen woman there 
seems to be no space for repentance ; for her there is 
no hope and no prayer. How seldom we attempt to 
reach and rescue ! and for her where is the refuge ? 

Every form of temptation is put in her path — hard 
and cruel homes, a serpent for a lover, no work, love 
of display, promises of marriage, mock marriage, and 
strong drink. I know a woman in this city, who, when 
a young girl, was led from her home in Massachusetts 
by a man whose name is well known in political circles. 
He solemnly promised to marry her, and I have seen his 
■written promise of marriage. The parties came to 
> New York, and a mock marriage was celebrated ; and 
a mock minister was called in, and the Book of 
Common Prayer was used. The parties passed as man 
and wife for years, and received company as such. 
The woman bore the name of the man with whom she 
lived. Ten 3'ears passed away. Her husband was a 
leading politician in the land, and began to be much 
absent from home. One day a lawyer of eminence 
called on her, in company with a leading citizen, and 
told the astounded woman that the man with whom 
she was living was not her husband, that the mar- 
riao-e was a mock one, that her husband was about to 
marry a woman of fortune and position, and would 
never see her aij-ain, and that thev had come to make 
terms with her and settle the whole case. Frightened 
and alone, with no one to rely on or give advice, with 
starvation staring her in the face, she made the best 
settlement she could. In later times she sought re- 
dress in the courts. But the cunninsr deceiver had 



In New York. 389 

made it impossible to prove anj' marriage, and her 
case failed. He was worth a handsome fortune, lived 
in grand style, and left the poor child, whom he took 
from her lather's home, and so foully wronged, to eke 
out a scanty and insufficient livelihood by selling 
books in the streets of New York. 



390 Sunshine and Shadow 



XLIV. 

PANEL-THIEVING. 

AS A SYSTEM. — THE PANEL-HOUSE. — ROBBERY. 

AS A SYSTEM. 

This system of robbery, so common in New York, 
blends prostitution and robbery. It is made profitable, 
and is not easy of detection. Parties need but little 
furniture or capital. They seldom stay long in a place. 
Their safety demands frequent removals. One or two 
cribs — as these places are called — are quite notorious, 
and have been kept in the same spot for a number of 
years. Panel-thieving is reduced to a system, and on 
the observance of the system the success depends. 
The women who are employed in this department of 
crime are mostly intelligent, neat, and good-looking 
negro or mulatto women. Men who have been robbed 
do not usually care to have it known that they have 
been keeping company with a colored woman, espe- 
cially if they happen to be well-to-do men of family in 
some rural town. So they will not be likely to press 
the matter with the police. They will bluster and 
make a noise. But when their name, residence, and 
business are taken down, and they find that all their 



In New York. 391 

niglit frolic is to come out in the public print, tliey let 
the prosecution go. Panel-thieves count on this. 

THE PANEL-HOUSE. 

The place selected is usually a basement in a quiet 
neighborhood, the more respectable the better. Often 
panel-thieves hire a basement. The party who rents 
it, or who lives in the house, does not know who his 
neighbor is. But usually it is for purposes we will name 
by and by. All concerned are interested in the game. 
The room is papered and a panel cut in the paper, or 
one of the panels is fitted to slide softly. The room 
contains a bed, a single chair, and a few articles for 
chamber use, - the whole not worth over fifty dollars. 
The bolts, and bars, and locks are peculiar, and so 
made as to seem to lock on the inside, though they do 
not. They really fasten on the outside. And while 
the visitor imagines he has locked all comers out, lie.is 
really locked in himself, and cannot escape till he has 
been robbed. A rural gentleman from the country 
leaves his hotel about ten o'clock at night to see the 
sicrhts. He meets a neatly-dressed and fine-looking 
woman, with whom he has a talk. She has a sad story 
to tell of domestic cruelty. She has been driven to the 
street, and never accosted a gentleman before, and 
would not now, did not want drive her to it.^ ihe 
country gentleman is captivated. His sympathies are 
touched. She incidentally names a modest sum for Her 
company. He proposes a walk to look at her house 
On the way the woman details some of her personal 
history, and in return finds out where l^f companion 
is from, and whether he has money worth the trouble. 



392 SUNSPIINE AND ShADOW 

of taking liim home to pluck. She keeps np the role of 
an abused woman on her first street walk, and the man 
becomes quite social. The house is reached, is quite 
respectable, and in a decent neighborhood; so the 
parties enter. A plainly furnished basement is seen, 
but all is neat, cosy, and tidy. As the woman takes off 
her bonnet and shawl, she is seen to be dressed pkiinly, 
but with good taste. The door is carefully bolted, or 
supposed to be. The price agreed on is paid in 
advance, partly to see how full the wallet is stuffed, 
partly that the man may have no occasion to take out 
his wallet till he gets to his hotel, or at least gets out 
of the house, for he might find out that he had been 
robbed, and so make trouble. He must put his clothes 
on the chair, for there is no other spot except the floor 
to lay them. The chair is put quite a distance from 
the bed, so that the robbery can be safely committed. 

ROBBERY. 

At a given signal the panel slides, and the confed- 
erate creeps in on his hands and knees, and searches 
the pants. All the money is not taken ; for this rea- 
son none of the parties are brought before the courts ; 
the fact will appear that the man had some money left 
— a thing not credible if robbed in a panel-house, and 
he will find it difficult to convince the judge that he 
did not spend the missing money wdien he was drunk. 
Another reason for leaving some money is, that the 
bulk in the pocket-book must not be so reduced as to 
excite suspicion. When quite a bulk is removed, care- 
fully prepared packages, about the size, are put in the 
place of the money. When the robbery has been com- 



In New York. 393 

pleted, and the thief has crept out of the room and 
closed the panel, a loud knocking is heard at the door. 
The woman starts up in fright, and announces the 
arrival of her husband. The man hastily dresses, and 
makes his escape from the front basement door. In 
his llight he hnds, by feeling, that his pocket-book is all 
right. lie reaches his hotel, and usually not till morn- 
ing does he know that he has been robbed. His first 
step is to seek the residence of the panel-thief and 
demand his money. But how can he find it ? The 
woman, to escape detection, led the man through by- 
lanes and dark alleys. And should he find the house, 
he could not identify it. If he could, he would not find 
the woman or her confederate. If the house was a 
large one, all the furniture in the room will be changed. 
It will probably be the abode of a physician, who, indig- 
nant at the attempt to convict him of panel-thieving, 
and to ruin his practice, will threaten to shut the 
libeller up in the Tombs. As a last resort, the victim 
will go to the police ; but as the woman is at Brooklyn, 
Harlem, Jersey Cit}', or some new abode far from the 
robbery, nothing can be done, and the man must bear 
the loss. And so the panel game goes on from year 
to year. 



394 Sunshine and Shadow 



XLV. 

GAMBLING-HOUSES OF THE FIRST 

. CLASS. 

LOCATION. — ARRANGEMENT AND TABLE. — GAMBLING-ROOM. — HOW THE PLAT 

GOES ON. THE COMPANY. JOHN MORRISSEY'S HOUSE. HIS START. 

3FINDS EMPLOYMENT. — BEGINS AS A GAMBLER. — AT SARATOGA. — GAM- 
BLING AS A TRADE. 

LOCATION. 

In the city of New York there are not more than a 
dozen first-class gambling-houses. But these are superb 
in all their appointments. The location is aristocratic 
and easy to be found. A brown-stone front or a marble 
house is selected, and kept in great style. Such a 
house is usually distinguished from a first-class dwelling 
only by a broad silver plate on the door. Heavy blinds 
or curtains, kept drawn all day, hide the- inmates from 
prying eyes. If one wishes to enter, he rings the door 
bell. This is answered by a finely-dressed colored 
porter, for all the servants are black. They are trained 
to their duties, are silent and polite. To your saluta- 
tion the porter responds, " Who do you wish to see ? " 
You name the proprietor or a friend, and are at once 
invited to the parlor. The elegance of the establish- 
ment dazzles you. The doors are of rosewood. The 
most costly carpet that can be imported lies on the floor. 



In New York. 395 

Mirrors of magnificent dimensions extend from the 
ceiling to the floor. No tawdry frescoing, but costly 
paintings by the first artists, adorn the walls and cover 
the ceiling. The richest of gold, gilt, and rosewood 
furniture in satin and velvet abound. 

ARRANGEMENT AND TABLE. 

The basement of the house is devoted to domestic 
labors. The front parlor is used for dining. The din- 
ner is served at six o'clock. Nothing in New York can 
equal the elegance of the table. It is spread with 
silver and gold plate, costly china ware, and glass of 
exquisite cut, and the viands embrace all the luxuries of 
the season served up in the richest style. Fruits, home 
and foreign, fill the sideboard, and wines and costly 
liquors are to be had for the asking. Among the 
keepers of the first-class gaming-houses there is a con- 
stant rivalry to excel in the matter of dinners and the 
manner the table is spread. The rooms are open to 
all comers. All are welcome to the table and side- 
board. No questions are asked, no price is paid, no 
one is solicited to drink or play. A man can eat, drink, 
look on, and go away if he pleases. But it must be 
profitable business, or men who a few years ago were 
drunken prize-fighters could not now be millionuaires. 
A man who does not spend one dime in the house can 
call for the choicest wines, and drink what he will, as 
freely as the man that leaves thousands at the bank. 



396 Sunshine and Shadow 



GAMBLING-ROOM. 

The gamlng-room is usually the third one, erected 
in the yard for the purpose, surmounted by a dome, 
through which the light comes, as the walls are solid. 
In this room is a spacious sideboard, crowded with the 
choicest and most costly liquors. As with the dinner, 
so with the sideboard : all are made welcome. One has 
but to call, and the prompt servant serves you at your 
will. The roulette table is spread, and the " lay-out," as 
it is called, is placed on the faro table. The keeper of 
the bank and the dealer of the cards are in their 
places. The cards are shufflied in a patent silver case, 
got up in expensive style. Men, players, table, the 
lay-out, the cue, box, and all the paraphernalia of 
gamblery, are in the first style and most costly order. 

HOW THE GAME GOES ON. 

In front of a table covered with green cloth, with a 
pad before him, the dealer shuffles his cards. Some 
play lightly; they lose five or ten dollars of an evening, 
then stop. Many play deep, and losses are heavy. From 
one thousand to a hundred thousand dollars often 
change hands in a night. Merchants, bank men, and 
clerks often play till they lose all, and put up watch 
and jewelry, pledge their salaries, incur debts of honor, 
that must be paid. Defalcation, peculation, fraud, 
theft, forgery, follow a visit to the hells in high life. 
Recently one man lost three hundred thousand dol- 
lars. There is at present a man in this city who " plays 
system," as it is called. He has had such a run of luck 
that he broke the bank of one of the first houses, and 



In New York. 397 

carried away two hundred thousand dollars in one 
night. All these gamblers are fast men. They spend 
all they win on their vices, passions, or in play. When 
they are low, they visit the low gaming dens of the 
city, and if their fortune in any way changes, they 
hasten back and try their luck again in a first-class 
house. Many gamblers do not lay up five dollars in 
five years. 

THE COMPANY. 

None but men who behave like gentlemen are 
allowed the entree of the rooms. Play runs on by the 
hour, and not a word spoken save the low words of the 
parties that conduct the game. But for the implements 
of o-amiufj; there is little to distin<»:uish the room from a 
a first-class club-house. Gentlemen well known on 
'change and in public life, merchants of a high grade, 
whose names adorn benevolent and charitable associa- 
tions, are seen in these rooms, reading and talking. 
Some only drink a glass of wine, walk about, and 
look on the play with apparently but little curiosity. 
The great gamblers, besides those of the professional 
rintir, are men accustomed to the excitement of the 
Stock Board. They gamble all day in Wall and Broad 
Streets, and all night on Broadway. To one not ac- 
customed to such a sight, it is rather startling to see 
men whose names stand liio:h in church and state, who 
are well dressed and leaders of fishion, in these notable 
saloons, as if they were at home. The play is usually 
from five to twenty-five dollars. A stock of checks is 
purchased, and these played out, the respectable player 
quits the table. But old and young, men in established 



398 Sunshine and Shadow 

business and mere boys, are seen night after night 
yielding to the terrible fascination of play. 

JOHN MORRISSEY's HOUSE. 

A few years ago John Morrissey was a resident of 
Troy. He kept a small drinking saloon, of the lowest 
character. It was the resort of the low prize-fighters, 
gamblers, thieves, and dissolute persons of all degrees. 
So low, and dissolute, and disreputable, was the place, 
that it was closed by the authorities. With other traits, 
Morrissey blended that of a prize-fighter of the lowest 
caste. Drunken, brutal, without friends or money, bat- 
tered in his clothes and in his person, he drifted down 
to New York to see what would turn up. He located 
himself in the lowest stews of New York. At that 
time the elections in the city were carried by brute 
force. There was no registry law, and the injunction 
of jDoliticians, to "vote early and vote often," was 
literally obeyed. Roughs, Short-Boys, brutal represen- 
tatives of the Bloody Sixth, took possession of the 
polls. Respectable men, who were known to be op- 
posed to the corruption and brutality which marked 
the elections, were assaulted, beaten, robbed, and often 
had their coats torn from their backs. The police were 
powerless ; often they were allies of the bullies, and 
citizens had quite as much to fear from them as from 
the rowdies. If the election was likely to go against 
them, and their friends presided over the ballot-box, 
and should signal the danger, a rush would be made 
by twenty or thirty desperate fellows, the boxes be 
seized and smashed, tables and heads broken, the 
voters dispersed, and the election carried by default. 



In New York. 899 



HIS START. 

A local election was to take place in the upper part 
of the city. The friends of good order were in the 
majority, if allowed to vote. But it was known that 
the rowdies would come in force and control the elec- 
tion. A few voters got together to see what could he 
done, and among them the jDresent General Superin- 
tendent of Police. It was suggested that force be met 
with force, that the ballot-box be guarded, and the 
assailants beaten off by their own weapons. But 
where could the materials be found to grapple with 
the Plug Uglies and their associates? Somebody said 
that Morrissey was in town ready for a job, and that 
he could organize a force and guard the election. 



FINDS EMPLOYxMENT. 

One day Mrs. Kennedy came to her husband as he 
sat in his room, and said to him, " There is an awful- 
looking man at the door, who wants to see you. He 
is dirty and ragged, has a ferocious look, and is the 
most terrible fellow I ever saw. Don't go to the door; 
he certainly means mischief." " Is he a big, burly- 
looking fellow?" "Yes." "Broad-shouldered, tall, 
with his nose turned one side ? " "' Yes, yes," said the 
impatient lady. " 0, 1 know who it is ; it is John Mor- 
rissey ; let him come in." " 0, husband, the idea of your 
associating with such men, and bringing them to the 
house, too ! " But the unwelcome visitor walked into 
the parlor. Now, John Morrissey at Saratoga, in his 
white flannel suit, huge diamond rings, and pin con- 
taining brilliants of the first water, and of immense 



400 Sunshine and Shadow 

size ; tall of stature, a powerful-looking fellow, walking 
quietly about the streets, or lounging at the hotels, but 
seldom speaking, is not a bad-looking man. Seen in 
New York in his clerical black suit, a little too flashy 
to be a minister, yet among bankers, merchants, or at 
the Stock Board he would pass very well as one of the 
solid men of the city. But Morrissey as he appeared 
that morning w^as an entirely diflerent personage. 
He had come from a long debauch, and that of the 
lowest kind. He was bruised and banged up. His 
clothes were tattered. The Island was all that seemed 
to be opened to him. With him a bargain was made 
to oriranize a force of fii»;liters and bullies, sufficient to 
prevent the ballot-boxes from being smashed, and the 
voters from being driven from the polls. He said he 
could do it, for he was at home among desperadoes. 
True to his appointment, he was at the polls before 
they were open. He was attended by about thirty as 
desperate looking fellows as ever rode in a wagon or 
swung from Tyburn. He stationed his force, gave his 
orders, told each not to strike promiscuously, but, on 
the first appearance of disturbance, each to seize his 
man, and not leave him till his head was broken. 
There was no disturbance till twelve o'clock. The late 
Captain Carpenter was in charge. About noon a huge 
lumber-van drove up, drawn by four horses. It w^as 
loaded with the roughest of the rousrh, wdio shouted 
and 3'elled as the vehicle neared the curbstone. Bill 
Poole, at that time so notorious, led the company. 
They were choice specimens of the men who then 
made the rulers of New York. Plug Uglies, Bummers, 
Ptoughs of the Bloody Sixth, Short-Boys, Fourth Ward- 



In New York. 401 

ers, and men of that class, were fully represented. Bill 
Poole sprang to the sidewalk. Captain Carpenter 
stood in the door. Addressing him, Poole said, " Cap., 
may I go in ? " " 0, yes ; walk in and welcome," 
Carpenter said, and in Poole went. He saw the situa- 
tion at a glance. He measured Morrissey and his gan^'-, 
turned on his heel, and, passing out, said, " Good morn- 
ing. Cap. ; I won't give you a call to-day ; drive on 
boys ; " and on they went to some polling-place where 
they could play their desperate game without having 
their heads broken. 

BEGINS AS A GAMBLER. 

This was Morrissey's first upward step. He washed 
his face ; with a part of the money paid "him he bought 
a suit of clothes, and with the balance opened a small 
place for play. He became thoroughly temperate. He 
resolved to secure first-class custom. To do this he 
knew he must dress well, behave well, be sober, and 
not gamble. These resolutions he carried out. His 
house in New York is the most elegantly furnished of 
any of the kind in the state. It has always been con- 
ducted on principles of the highest honor, as gamblers 
understand that term. His table, attendants, cooking, 
and company are exceeded by nothing this side of the 
Atlantic. 

AT SARATOGA. 

He followed his patrons to Saratoga, and opened 
there what was called a Club-House. Judges, senators, 
merchants, bankers, millionnaires, became his guests. 
The disguise was soon thrown off, and the club-house 
assumed the form of a first-class gambling-house at the 
26 



402 Sunshine and Shadow 

Springs. Horse-racing and attendant games followed, 
all bringing custom and profit to Morrissey's estab- 
lishment. About this time the celebrated conspiracy 
was formed by politicians and railroad men to break 
down Harlem Railroad, and with it Commodore Van- 
derbilt. As a player Morrissey soon became familiar 
with Vanderbilt, who spent his summers at the Springs. 
In the extraordinary movements made by Commodore 
Vanderbilt to checkmate the conspirators, and throw 
them on their back, Morrissey was employed to play a 
conspicuous part. He made his appearance at the 
Stock Board, backed by Vanderbilt. He traded in 
Harlem in a manner that astounded the old operators 
at the board. He was allowed to share in the profits 
of that bold stroke which ruined thousands who had 
sold Harlem short. Morrissey is now worth half a 
million. He is still a gambler by profession, nnd carries 
on his establishments in Saratoy-a and in New York. 

o 
GAMBLING AS A TRADE. 

It is very rare that a gambler makes money. The 
late hours, the constant drinking, the exciting food that 
is eaten, the infatuation of play, inevitably lead to 
destruction. If men begin with a cautious hand, and 
in what are known as first-class houses, they descend 
step by step till they reach the lowest depths to which 
gambling descends. A few men make it a profession, 
and a few have followed it for half a century. They 
are men of peculiar organization, who resist the fasci- 
nations of play, and never touch the wine cup. Some 
of them live in elegant style up town, and bring up 
their families in luxury. They are model husbands 



In New York. 403 

and flithers ; cheerful, genial, and liberal in their own 
homes. Their profession is unknown to their fliinilies 
often, and to their most intimate friends. There are 
many kinds of reputable business in New York which 
require night work, and in some of these departments 
the persons alluded to are supposed to be employed. 
Any one who takes a late city car going up town will 
find two or three genteelly-dressed men, very fxshion- 
able in their attire, carefully barbered, profusely covered 
with jewelry, flit, sleek, and in good condition, evi- 
dently on excellent terms with themselves ; any night 
in the week, between twelve and two^ this class, look- 
ing very much alike, may be seen going to their homes. 
They are the men who make gambling a business. 
They do not drink, they do not swear, they do not 
play. Success in the business they have undertaken 
forbids this. They attend church, and usually have a 
pew in a fashional>le place of worship. They are liberal 
subscribers to the causes of religion and beneficence. 
They would not hesitate to head a subscription with a 
liberal sum to suppress gambling. It would be policy 
do so, and policy is their forte. 

ONE MAKES A FORTUNE. 

A man lives in the upper part of this city, and in fine 
style. He is reputed to be worth five hundred thou- 
sand dollars. He came to New York penniless. He 
decided to take up play as a business ; not to keep a 
gambling-house, but to play every' night as a trade. 
He made certain rules, which he has kept over thu'ty 
years. He would avoid all forms of licentiousness; 
would attend church regularly on Sunday ; would avoid 



404 Sunshine and Shadow 

all low, disreputable company ; would drink no kind 
of intoxicating liquors, wine, or ale ; would neither 
smoke nor chew; would go nightly to his play, as a 
man would go to his office or to his trade ; would play as 
long as he won, or until the bank broke ; would lose a 
certain sum and no more ; when he lost that, he would 
stop playing, and leave the room for the night ; if he 
lost ten nights in succession, he would lose that exact 
sum and no more, and wait till his luck changed. This 
system he has followed exactly. While this one man 
has been successful in this career, tens of thousands, 
who have tried the hazard, have been carried down 
into irretrievable ruin. 



In New York. 405 



XLVI. 

LOW CLASS GAMBLING-HOUSES. 

THE SKIN GAME HOW VICTIMS ARE SECURED. 

THE SKIN GAME. 

There are two kinds of gambling in the city, one 
known as the square game, which is played only by 
gentlemen, and in first-class houses ; the other, the 
skin game, which is played in all the dens and cham- 
bers, and in the thousand low hells of New York. In 
the square game nobody is solicited, nor obliged to 
play, though they visit the rooms. In low gaming- 
houses it is not safe for any one to enter unless he 
plays. Persons are not only solicited, but bullied into 
hazarding something. Runners are out, who visit all 
the hotels and places of amusement to solicit custom, as 
drummers solicit trade for dry goods houses. 

HOW VICTIMS ARE SECURED. 

The mode of procedure is usually this. A person 
arrives in New York, and books his name at a hotel. 
A sharper, who is hanging round from a low club- 
house, watches his descent from the coach, or his 
entrance with his carpet-bag -, watches him as he books 



406 Sunshine and Shadow 

his name, and waits nntil he has finished his dinner or 
supper, and conies into the pubHc room. To a stranger 
there is no place so lonely and utterly desolate as a 
great city. The stranger does not know what to do 
with the time that hangs heavy on his hands till the 
morning trade begins. The roper-in for the gambling- 
house understands this very well. At the proper time 
he approaches the visitor, and calls him by name ; 
asks him if he is not from Chicago or New Orleans, 
as the case may be ; announces himself as from that 
city ; speaks about mutual acquaintances. The visitor, 
thankful that he has found somebody to speak to in 
this great wilderness, becomes communicative. The 
sharper soon finds out whether his companion is a 
drinking man or not. If he is, an invitation is given to 
come up and take a drink, in which the health of their 
mutual friends in New Orleans and elsewhere is duly 
honored. Each treats the other, and several glasses 
are drank. From the bar the parties proceed to the 
front steps of the hotel. " What are you going to do 
with j^ourself to-night ? " is carelessly asked by the 
roper-in. Of course the victim has no plans ; he has 
not been in New York long enough to form any. He 
is only too happy to accept an invitation to call at a 
private club-house of a friend. " They keep vile liquor 
in this house ; I would not drink the stuff! My friend 
imports his own liquors ; you'll get a tine drink over 
there." Arm in arm the parties start for the club- 
house, which, of course, is a gambling-den. They take 
a few drinks all round, and then pass into another 
room, where " a few gentlemen " are having a quiet 
game by themselves. The roper looks on for a while, 



In New York. 407 

and suggests to Iiis friend that he take a chance for a 
dollar or so ; that he is not much accustomed to play, 
but that he does so once in a while for amusement. 
He plays and wins ; he plays again and wins. The 
game is so pla3^ed that winning or losing is at the 
pleasure of the man who shuffles the cards. Between 
each play the visitors drink. It costs them nothing, 
and they drink deep ; at least the victim does. Confi- 
dentially over their glasses the sharper suggests that 
his friend back him for the little sum of fifty dollars. 
The excited man yields, and wins. He now bets a 
hundred dollars. The infatuation is upon him. He 
bets all his money, pledges his watch and jewelry, till, 
insensible, he is turned out on the sidewalk, to be taken 
to the station-house, or carried to his hotel by the 
police. In thes^ dens strangers have lost as high as 
two hundred thousand dollars in a single night. In 
the mornino: the o-amblers cannot be found, and if 
found, the robbers are far away. There are about fifty 
of these sharpers, who prowl around the hotels nightly, 
seeking their victims among the unw^ary. Men who 
frequent low and disreputable places to fleece strangers 
and the young are not only professed gamJilers, but 
curbstone brokers and gamblers in stocks, with whom 
the excitement of the day is exchanged for the hazard 
of the night. 



408 Sunshine and Shadow 



XLYII. 

DAY GAMBLING-HOUSES. 

THEIR ORIGIN. HOW THE^ROOMS ARE FITTED UP. AN INSIDE VIEW. 

THEIR ORIGIN. 

There is a class of speculators who are not content 
with legitimate business nor legitimate hours. The up- 
town hotels are crowded with them. Rooms are oc- 
cupied, halls rented, and the day excitement at Wall 
Street is renewed in the evening, and often runs up to 
the small hours of the morning. The same spirit led to 
the opening of day gambling-houses. These are con- 
veniently located to business. They run from Fulton 
Street to Wall, are found at a convenient distance from 
Broadway and Water Street. They are designed to 
attract merchants, bankers, young men, and visitors 
from the country. They have ropers-in, as have the 
night gambling-saloons. These decoys have a percent- 
age taken from the winnings of their customers. Every 
man they can seduce to enter one of these establish- 
ments, if he lose money, is a gain to the decoy. These 
sharpers hang round the street, loaf on the curbstone, 
dog their victims from store to store, proffer them aid, 
go with them blocks to show them the way, help them 
to makQ purchases, propose to show them sights, and at 



In New York. 409 

length, as if accidentally, lead them into a day gambling- 
saloon, which is situated very conveniently for the pur- 
pose. In these dens, men who have lost in stocks on 
the street try to make gains. Missing bonds here turn 
up, missing securities are here found, pledged by con- 
fidential clerks, who, until now, were supposed to be 
trustworthy. Young men who are robbed in the street, 
from whose hands funds are snatched, from whose pos- 
session a well-stuffed pocket-book has been taken, find 
the thief usually within the silent walls of a day gam- 
bling-house. 

HOW THE EG CMS ARE FITTED UP. 

The place selected for one of these saloons is in the 
busiest and most frequented parts of lower New York. 
A store let in floors is usually selected. A large build- 
ing full of offices, with a conunon stairway, up and down 
which people, are rushing all the time, is preferred ; or 
the loft of a warehouse, if nothing better can be had, is 
taken. A sealed partition runs from the floor to the 
wall. The windows are barred with wooden shutters, 
and covered with heavy curtains. The rooms are 
handsomely carpeted, and gayly adorned. Lounges 
and chairs line the sides of the room, and the inevi- 
table roulette and faro tables stand in their place. The 
padded cushion on which the cards rest tells the em- 
ployment of the room. The outside door is flush with 
the partition. A party desiring to enter pulls the bell, 
and the door opens without any apparent agency, and 
closes suddenly on the comer. The hardened gambler 
walks in as he would into a bar-room or an omnibus, 
regardless of observation. But the young man who is 



410 Sunshine and Shadow 

new to the business, who has come justly or unjustly 
by a bill, who has been sent on an errand and must 
make up a falsehood to account for his detention, or 
who is sent from the bank to the Clearing House, or 
from the Clearing House 'to the Custom House, and 
who runs in to try his luck for a few minutes, or for 
thirty, can be easily detected. He pauses below ; goes 
a story above ; looks up and down before he pulls the 
bell ; faintly draws the wire, and darts in like a startled 
fawn. Not without observation and scrutiny does the 
customer o-et into the saloon. The outside door admits 
him into a small vestibule. The door behind him is closed, 
and he cannot open it. The bell has announced his 
presence. He is scrutinized through a small wicket 
opening in the wall. He must in some way be vouched 
for. If he comes through invitation of a roper-in he 
has a card. . If all is rioht he is admitted. The dark- 
ness of night fills the room. The gas is lighted. The 
silence of a sepulchre reigns in the chamber. Persons 
sit, lounge, and stand in groups ; they watch the table, 
but not a word is spoken except the monotonous utter- 
ances of the men who have charge of the gaming. 

AN INSIDE VIEW. 

Seated at the table to deal the cards sits a man 
apparently between forty and fifty years of age. These 
men all seem of the same age and of the same tribe. 
They are usually short, thick set, square built, pugilistic 
fellows, half bald, with mahogany faces — men without 
nerve, emotion, or sensibility. They sit apparently all 
day long pursuing their monotonous and deadly trade, 
making no inquiry about their victims, caring nothing 



In New York. 411 

about their losses, unmoved by the shriek of anguish, the 
cry of remorse, the outburst, " 0, 1 am undone ! I am 
ruined ! What will my mother say ? What will be- 
come of my wife and children ? " While the wounded 
are removed, and their outcries hushed, the play goes 
on. These rooms are distinguished by their silence and 
quiet tread inside. They open about nine in the morn- 
ing, and close at four, when the tide begins to turn up 
town. The amount of misery these day gambling- 
houses create, the loss of money, character, and stand- 
ing, exceeds all belief The men who carry on this 
class of gambling down town are connected with the 
low class up town, and when the day gambling-houses 
close, those that run in the night are opened. Tho 
losses are often very heavy. Men enticed into these 
dens have been known to lose from twelve to fifty 
thousand dollars a night. There is no seduction in 
New York more subtle or more deadly than the day 
gambling-houses. 



412 Sunshine and Shadow 



XLVIII. 

TELEGRAPH HEADQJJARTERS, ETC. 

PROFESSOR MORSE. — INVENTION OF THE TELEGRAPH. — MEN SLOW TO BE- 
LIEVE. — GOVERNMENT AIP. — TELEGRAPH COMPANIES. — AMERICAN TEL- 

, EGRAPH COMPANY. — NEW MODE OF WRITING. — SYSTEM OP BUSINESS. — 
A DOMESTIC CONVENIENCE. — EMPLOYMENT FOR WOMEN. 

PROFESSOR MORSE, 

The inventor of the telegraph, can be found daily at 
the headquarters of this great system, which is located 
on Broadway. He is the son of a New England clergy- 
man, Dr. Morse, of Charlestown. His father made his 
pulpit a fortress in the dark and trying times which 
beset his faith. He was remarkable for his courage and 
daring in all that he considered right. A village physi- 
cian in Watertown, Mass., had introduced vaccine. The 
excited people insisted that he was about to turn peo- 
ple into cattle, by taking the virus out of a cow and 
putting it into a man. The practice- of the doctor fell 
away. He dared not go out of his house nights, and 
his life was in danger. Dr. Morse espoused the theory 
of vaccination, protected the doctor, and gave the arm 
of his son to be operated on to remove the popular 
terror. These lessons of heroism and daring were not 
lost on the children. " 



In New York. 413 

invention of the telegraph. 

In the year 1832 Professor Morse sailed from 
Havana in a packet ship, bound for New York, Quite 
a number of eminent men were on board. The voyage 
was long and tedious. One evening a physician of 
Boston detailed some marvellous discoveries that had 
been made in connection with electricity. When the 
doctor closed his statement, Professor Morse quietly 
remarked, " If these statements are true, and such dis- 
coveries have really been made, then I can send a mes- 
sage by lightning round the world." He retired to his 
state-room, and from that time seemed lost t© all things 
around him till he reached his native shore. He had 
been absent from his family and his native land three 
years. His family and friends were on the pier to 
receive him. He accepted their warm and cordial 
greetings with marked indifference. He made no 
inquiries, and seemed morose and insensible. He was 
big with a great discovery that was to change the face 
of the world. All his feelings and powers were ab- 
sorbed in this. Till the telegraph was a reality, and 
established beyond dispute, he seemed not to walk 
among men. This great invention was born on the 
wide ocean, whose waters touch all climes and bind 
all nations in amity. It seemed to scorn the limits 
of state or nation. 

.MEN SLOW TO BELIE\^. 

The public were slow to accept the great discovery. 
The monks persecuted Galileo, and refused to look 
through his telescope lest they should believe. Harvey 



414 Sunshine and Shadow 

demonstrated the circulation of blood, and lost his 
practice for his pains. The man who cut the first types 
with his penknife out of wood, and exhibited the first 
printed page to the startled authorities, was nearly 
hung for being in league with the devil. Jenner fled 
from his indignant countrymen because he was success- 
ful in controlling the small pox. Gangs of men, grin- 
ning their incredulity, greeted Fulton with derision as 
he started his first steamboat from New York. Morse 
could expect no better fate. The invention of the 
telegraph was not perfect at the start. Difficulties were 
to be overcome, and months of patient trial needed, to 
make it a sticcess. Facing all opposition, and breasting 
all scorn, the inventor pursued his way for a time 
almost alone. The attempt to get up a company to 
make telegraphing a practical success was met by 
ridicule and derision. Professor Morse went from 
office to office, and from man to man, but nobody 
would touch his scheme. Jacob Little was then the 
great bear of Wall Street. Being one of the shrewdest 
financiers, and a man of remarkable forecast, he was 
urged to embark in the new enterprise. After it be- 
came established, Mr. Little said, " At one time I might 
have controlled all the telegraph lines in the land." 
But when the proposal was made to him, he shook his 
head, and said, " I will give Professor Morse a hundred 
dollars to help him along, but not one dollar for invest- 
ment." A few personal friends were willing to try 
their luck, but they were poor in purse, and without 
influence. But one man in the land except Professor 
Morse grasped the future of this great discovery. Mr. 
Butterfield, of western New York, so famous in 



In New York. 415 







connection with express companies, and who ran the 
great stage Hnes west, grasped, with his whole soul, tlie 
inventor and his cause. He gave his money and his 
time to demonstrate the practicabihty of the discover}^ 
Men laughed at his folly, and derided him for his gulli- 
bility. He defied his friends, and told them that tlie 
time would come when the telegraph would supersede 
the mail. Things went roughly and savagely enough 
for a long time. Poverty, like an armed man, came 
upon the inventor, and all associated with him. They 
dressed meanly and poorly, wore rough shoes, and had 
a hard battle to keep the wolf from the door and hold 
on to the great discovery. 

GOVERNMENT AID. 

That an experimental line might be run between 
Baltimore and Washimi-ton, the o:overnment made a 
very discreet proposition. If the thing was a success, 
and the lines could really pass a message from Baltimore 
and back, a certain sum should be paid the inventor; 
but if the experiment failed, the economical govern- 
ment was to pay nothing. It must be no bogus de- 
sj)atch, but a real one, sent to the satisfiiction of the 
government. The message was sent, and the answer 
returned. John C. Spencer Avas then at the head of 
the Treasury Department. He was as intelligent as 
men averao-ed at that time. Yet so io;norant was be 
of telegraphing, and so little did he understand the 
system, that he asked Mr. Butterfield, when the subject 
was canvassed, how larice a bundle could be sent over 
the wires. He wanted to know if the United States 
mail could not be sent in the same way. Nor were 



416 Sunshine and Shadow 

the scientific men much more advanced. Not one of 
them knew that the earth formed the most perfect 
circuit. The work was delayed a long time from the 
supposed necessity of a canal from Washington to 
Baltimore to complete the circuit. But all troubles 
came to an end, and the telegraph took its place among 
the most beneficent discoveries of the world. The in- 
ventor placed himself high among the benefactors of 
his race. He found himself suddenly raised to affluence, 
as were all his friends who joined him in the dark day, 
and stood by him through his trials. The stock could 
not be presented so fast as men subscribed for it. 
Companies multiplied, and a network of wires spread 
under the whole heavens, and ran in every direction 
over the land and under the sea. 

TELEGRAPH COMPANIES. 

For a time everybody seemed rushing into the 
business. Three great lines, however, embraced the 
telegraphing. Morse's company took the lead ; 
House's line printed the words ; but Baine's was the 
most curious of all. It took down the message, and 
by a chemical process obliterated part of the w^ords, and 
in an instant changed the characters. The three com- 
panies interfered with each other, underbid, and created 
a rivalry, by which the public were badly served, and 
the companies kept ver}^ poor. A consolidation was 
called for, and a company was formed, known as the 
Six Nations Telegraph Company, and so named after 
the Six Indian Nations. The business was divided 
between the parties composing the new organization. 
To the American Telegraph Company was assigned 



In New York. 417 

the seaboard from Haliflix to New Orleans, with its 
headquarters at New York, and branches running to 
Canada. The consohdation introduced a new era into 
the business. It called into the service of the lines 
the ablest talent. It produced harmony and concord. 
The public were better served, and the tariff of 
prices reduced rather than raised. Telegraphing 
became a necessity. Its boon was brought to every 
man's door. 

AMERICAN TELEGRAPH CO^MPANY (WESTERN UNION). 

The headquarters of this company are on Broadway, 
corner of Liberty Street. It has a capital of over two 
millions of dollars, employs over twenty thousand 
miles of wire, has eight hundred offices, and the names 
of two thousand on its pay-roll. Its annual expenses 
are over half a million of dollars a year. The business 
demands men of talent, intelligence, quickness, and 
parts. These men cannot be had without being paid for. 
For messages alone thirty thousand dollars are paid 
annually. The same sum is paid for the mere cups and 
batteries of telegraphing. The headquarters smack of 
mystery. Everything is systematized, and order and 
quiet rule. The endless click of a hundred instru- 
ments sounds like a distant cotton fictory. All the 
instruments — Morse's, House's, and Baine's — are used. 

NEW MODE OF AVRITING. 

The old style of taking down the message and then 
writing it out, is abandoned. The operators under- 
stand the click of the machine, as well as they do the 
utterance of a man. As an accurate reporter takes 
27 



418 Sunshine and Shadow 

down the speech of the orator as he speaks, so the 
niessaore is written down as it comes cUckingj over the 
wires. Tlie ear is more accurate than the eye, and 
fewer mistakes are made in the new system than in 
the old one of words or symbols. So written down, 
the message is ready for immediate distribution. Bank 
checks are not recorded with more accuracy. All 
messages are numbered, together with the name of 
the party who sent, the name of the party who receives, 
and the date. They are important in court trials, and 
become a material part of legal evidence. 

SYSTEM OF business. 

To be a success, telegraphing must be run as sys- 
tematic as railroads. The cupola of the building is full 
of mystery. Two thousand cups or cells, the compli- 
cation of the wires, the network of lines crossing and 
recrossing each other, seem all confusion. But to the 
master hand that controls all this it is simplicity 
itself As in a station there are tracks for incoming 
trains and tracks for outo-oino; trains, so is it with 
messages. There are special wires assigned to special 
business. The line for the Brokers' Board has no 
other business sent over it. Express-men, railroad 
companies, the press, the police, and the markets 
iKive each a wire. One line is devoted to Philadel- 
phia, another to Boston. That messages may not 
be interrupted, they are sent by one instrument over 
one line and returned by another. With wonderful 
accuracy message follows message with the speed of 
lightning. A curious instrument is used in the Ameri- 
can Company's office, wdiich is called a telegraph 



In New York. 419 

sivitch, operating somewhat like a switch on a railway 
track. With it a message can be switched off at any 
moment, at any point, to let an incoming despatch 
have the track. 

A DOMESTIC CONVENIENCE. 

It was the pnrpose of the far-seeing men w^ho 
systematized telegraphing to make it a common 
necessity — like Croton w\ater, the express, and the 
post office ; to bring the tariff of prices within every 
man's means ; to bring a wire to every man's 
door, that the whole community might buy, sell, 
and travel by electricity. The American Company 
cover the whole country — from Halifax to New 
Orleans, from Sandy Hook to Montreal — with a 
network of vibrating; wires. But the local and do- 
mestic use of the telegraph is scarcely less important. 
The company have forty offices in this city. Every 
person, within a circuit of twenty miles, can, if he 
will, be connected with headquarters. If a lady is 
sick, she telegraphs her husband to come home and 
bring: the doctor. If a man of business concludes 
to go to California, or to Europe, he telegraphs for 
his carpet-bag to meet him at the steamer at noon. 
A merchant invites a friend to dine with him, and 
he informs his wife of the fact by lightning. Con- 
tracts are made, money paid, the payment of checks 
stopped, consultations held, and millions of stocks 
change hands, through the subtle agency of the wire. 
The General Superintendent of Police sits in his 
office and converses with his captains thirty miles 
away. Some men have special wires assigned to 
them, connecting their home and store. 



420 Sunshine and Shadow 



EMPLOYMENT FOR WO!\IEN. 

In the early history of telegraphing, it was dis- 
covered that it was a work peculiarly adapted to 
women. They were invited to enter the field. Rooms 
were provided for their instruction, and if they 
were worthy of it, employment and good pay se- 
cured. The room in the central ofiice in which 
women are instructed in the art is very handsome, 
well furnished, airy, and cheerful. The lady superin- 
dent, who has this department in charge, has been 
many years in the employ of the company, and 
draws the handsome salary of one thousand dollars 
a year. On the line of railroads, at the stations, 
and in small country towns, women are employed. 
They have a liberal salary, and can do their sew- 
ing, pursue their studies, and yet perform all the 
duties of the office. They make the best operators. 
They are more reliable than men, more trustful 
and accurate ; their ear is quick, their fingers ready. 
None but first-class women are employed. Their 
neat and tasteful dress, and the order in which they 
keep their office, make their rooms very attractive. 
Their influence is felt all along the lines. Men are 
more attentive and civil in their duties where lady 
operators are employed. 



In New York. 421 



LIX. 

GEORGE LAW. 



This gentleman was born near Cambridge, Washing- 
ton County. He came to New York a penniless lad, 
and reached mature life before he made his mark on 
the city. He obtained his start financially by his con- 
tract to build the High Bridge for the Croton Aque- 
duct. He obtained several other contracts equally 
profitable, and then became a speculator in Wall Street. 
His connection with the ferries and railroads, especially 
Harlem, Eighth Avenue, and city roads, enabled him to 
amass a colossal fortune. 

Mr. Law resides in a fashionable residence on Fifth 

Avenue. He is a huge man in size, ponderous as well 

as tall, with an immense face and head, which seems 

swollen, it is so huge. His features are coarse, and one, 

from his general expression, would judge him to be a 

hard man to deal with. Like most men who started 

poor, Mr. Law has very little sympathy with the masses. 

He is probably 'as unpopular a man as can be found m 

New York. He has the control of several railroads and 

ferries, and he runs them to suit his own pleasure. The 

public are nothing to him but contributors to his 

fortune. If he wants a ferry, and can get it m no other 

way, he will start an opposition line, reduce the taie, 



422 



Sunshine and Shadow 



run off the old line, then raise the fare, charge what he 
pleases, and give the public such accommodations as 
he is disposed to. He is over sixty years of age, drives 
a one-horse buggy, which is shabby and dilaj^idated. 
Slovenly in his dress, coarse in his manners, with a 
countenance stolid as if made of mahogany, he can be 
seen daily riding from point to point, giving personal 
attention to his immense business. 



In New York. 423 



BROWN AND BROTHERS. 

This great banking-house is known all over the 
world for its rehabiUty, and the honorable manner in 
which its business is discharged. The founder of the 
house is James Brown, who is still living. Like so 
many of our successful men, Mr. Brown was born in 
the north of Ireland, and came to this country when a 
lad, bringing nothing with him but good principles 
and his indomitable industry. His home, in the north 
of Ireland, was the centre of the linen manufacture, 
and Mr. Brown conmienced business by importing 
Imens. In this business his brothers were engaged. 
With William, the English partner of the firm, who was 
knighted, James acquired a handsome fortune. With 
this he opened the banking-house of Brown & Brothers. 
Mr. Brown is a man of great liberality, and a devout 
Presbyterian. He has built the finest private banking- 
house in the world, on Wall Street. It is of white 
marble, and cost a million of dollars. Mr. Brown is a 
gentleman of the Old School. He attends closely and 
personally to his own business. He is of medium 
height, about seventy years of age, stoops slightly ; his 
hair is gray, and his manners are qui^t and unostenta- 
tious. He goes to his daily business as regularly as 
any clerk iu New York. 



424 ' Sunshine and Shadow 



LI. 

STREET- WALKERS. 

WHO TIIEY ARE. ISKD-HOUSES. VISITOKS. WOMEN ON THE PAVE. AN 

INCIDENT. HOW STKEET-WALKERS APPEAR. 

WHO THEY ARE. 

The tramps on the sidewalk, who annoy the passer- 
by, and dog the footsteps of men Avho walk Broadway 
after ten o'clock, are mostly young girls, who have an 
ostensible trade in which they are employed during the 
dav. Many of them are w\aiter o-irls in low restaurants, 
who are known as the " Pretty Waiter Girls;" or they 
work in hoop-skirt factories, binderies, or in some place 
W'here girls congregate together. Not all the girls in 
saloons and concert-rooms are bad. But few remain 
lonsr in that connection who do not become so. The 
wages paid to waiter girJs vary from five to fifteen dol- 
lars a week. To this is added the wages of infamy. 

The homes of most of the street i>:irls are in the 
suburbs of New York. They come in from Brooklyn, 
Hoboken, Jersey City, Harlem, and other places easy 
of access, and can be seen coming and going night and 
morning, and their employment is as well known as 
that of any trado^ in New York. Many of them are 
mere girls. Some have run away from home, and have 



In New York. 425 

a place to lay their heads on condition that they divide 
tlie sjDoils of the night. Some are orphans, and take 
the street to keep themselves out of the almshouse. 
Some have brutal or drunken mothers, who drive their 
children into the street, and live in idleness and de- 
bauchery on the infamous wages of their daughters. 
Some get coal, rent, and food from the hands of a child 
who sleeps all day and is out all night, and the thing is 
too comfortable to admit of much scrutiny. 

Most of these girls have a room in the city that they 
call their home, — a small, plainly-furnished sleeping 
apartment. This room is rented by the week, and 
paid for in advance. To this place company is taken, 
and the night spent. If robbery is committed, as it is 
frequently, the room is deserted the next morning, and 
the occupant goes, no one knows where. As the rent 
is always paid in advance, the landlord is no loser. 

BED-HOUSES. 

All over New York, in parts high and low, houses 
abound that bear the desio;nation of bed-houses. A 
location, fashionable or disreputable, is selected accord- 
ing to the class of custom that has to be secured. No 
one knows who is at the head of such institutions. 
Often landlords who are known on 'change as reputable 
men fit up a bed-house, and hire some hag to take care 
of it. The location is well known. The house is dark, 
and all about it is quiet. If a noise was allowed, 
the police would step in and shut up the thing as a 
nuisance. One of the most notorious houses of this 
class has fifty rooms. Sometimes a room is engaged in 
advance. But usually parties come to the house, enter 



426 Sunshine and Shadow 

the vestibule, and wait the response to the ring. A 
person appears in the dim hght. But no feature can 
be seen. If there is no room vacant, the quiet, low 
answer is, " All full." If otherwise, the parties are ad- 
mitted. A dim candle is put into the hand of a ser- 
vant, and the money for the room paid at once, and 
the customers are escorted up stairs. 

VISITORS. 

No rooms are so profitable. A well-regulated bed- 
house is the most lucrative house in New York. Wo- 
men who have tried to keep respectable boarding-houses 
often find " a gentleman friend " who will open such a 
house, or be a guarantee for the rent. Men are found 
who not only will furnish such houses and take their 
pay in instalments, but advertise so to do. Into these 
houses come the street-walkers, who find their victims 
on and near Broadway. If the girls have not the 
money, their companions have. Gray-headed old men 
can be seen wending their way late at night under the 
lead of a child scarcely fourteen years old. Appoint- 
ments are made at saloons to meet at a named house 
in the night. Low theatres, low and vile restaurants, 
and dance cellars bring up custom. Women can be 
seen going in from nine to ten at night with pitchers, 
plates, and household articles in their hands. They go 
to keep an appointment previously made ; and they go 
out from home with the articles in their hands under 
pretence of buying something for breakfast, leaving 
husband or father asleep from toil. But more than all, 
people come in coaches — some, private ones. The 
coachman has his eye-teeth cut. He knows what is 



In New York. 427 

going on. But the mistress or master has made it all 
right with him. From the heated soiree, where wine 
has flowed in abundance, from the opera or concert, 
the parties take a ride in the locality of a bed-house, 
and pass an hour or so in it, before the coach goes to 
the stable, and the mistress or man unlocks the hall 
door with the pass key. From twelve to two, elegant 
coaches and plain hacks can be seen before the doors 
of these lodging houses, waiting for company — the wo- 
men deeply veiled, the men so wrapped up that recog- 
nition is not common. Houses in low localities are 
preferred if clean ; if in better localities, the coming and 
going of coaches would attract attention. Lodgings 
are cheap, and run from fifty cents to ten dollars. 
Parties remain all night if they choose. The doors are 
never closed. They stand open night and day. Knock 
when customers may, they will find a welcome. 

WOMEN ON THE PAVE. 

For a half century the streets running parallel to 
Broadway, on either side, from Canal to Bleecker, have 
been the abode of women who walk the streets. In 
walk, manners, dress, and appearance they resemble 
the women of their class, who, three thousand years 
ago, plied their wretched trade under the eye of Solo- 
mon. About eight o'clock they come out of their dens 
to the broad pavement, — up and down, down and up, 
leering at men, and asking for company or for help. 
At eleven at night, when the street is clear, and not a 
soul is to be seen, as a man passes a corner, all at once 
a flutter will be heard, and a woman flitting out from a 
side street, where she has been watching for her victnn, 



428 Sunshine and Shadow 

will seize a man by the arm, and cry out, " Charlie, how 
are you?" or, "Where are you going?" If the man 
stops for a talk, he will probably follow the woman, as 
an " ox goetli to the slaughter." On passing a man on 
the street, if the party looks after the woman, her keen 
sight detects the slight move, and she turns and follows 
the looker-on. Some of these walkers are splendidly 
educated. Some take their first lessons in degrada- 
tion on the pave. Love of dress and finery, unwilling- 
ness to work, a pique at a lover, a mifi" at the stern 
family arrangement, are causes enough to send a young 

girl on the street. 

AN incident. 

A gentleman in this city employs in his fiictory a 
large' number of females. He is quite careful to get 
respectable girls. He demands a written testimonial 
before he will admit any one. Among those at work 
for him were two sisters. They were models of pro- 
priety and order. They were neat in their dress. Early 
and punctual they were at work. They mingled but 
little in society ; were quite reserved in their conversa- 
tions ; said but little, and kept constantly at work. 
Their quiet and industrious manners, silent and resolute 
conduct, living seemingly for each other, and always 
acting as if some great secret weighed them down, or 
bound them together, called out the sympathy of their 
employer. But they resisted all sympathy, refused to 
make him their confidant, and asked only to be left 
alone. They came and went regularly as the sun. 
One nit»;ht this si;entleman was walkino- alone on Broad- 
way quite late. As he passed Houston Street a young 
girl accosted him. The tones of her voice seemed 



In New York. 429 

familiar. He drew her to the gas light. The moment 
he did so the girl gave a scream, darted down the 
street, and was out of sight in a moment. She was 
one of the model sisters in his factory. The next 
morning the girls were not in their usual place, and 
he saw "them no more. All that he could hear of them 
was, that long before they came to his factory they 
were on the street. Each night while in his employ 
they followed street-walking as a vocation. All they 
ever gaid about themselves was said to one who, in the 
factory, had somewhat won upon their confidence 
They refused to join in some pastime proposed, and 
crave as a reason, that they had no money to spend on 
themselves ; they were saving, they said, all the money 
they could get to take up the mortgage upon their 
father's farm, as he was old and feeble. Filial love could 

do no more than this 1 -, -, -.i 

The Ei-hth and Fifteenth wards are crowded with 
tenement-houses. Suites of rooms, at a low rent, suit- 
able for cheap housekeeping, can be had. And here 
the same class of street^walkers are found when at 
home 

HOW STKEET-WALKERS APPEAR. 

Girls new to the business are flusli in health well- 
dressed, and attractive. They visit t^-tres nde m 
cars, ..0 in omnibuses, hang round the hotel doois, m 
:;iicircompany with their eyes and manner, -^^^^^^ 
than by their speech. This class throng ^^^^ 
p„,es They travel up and down the No>H. E v u 
Two or three of them take a state-room, and nu. 
round among the passengers -UciUng comp n>^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
custom became, the past summer, a gieat 



430 Sunshine and Shadow 

Lady passengers were annoyed, both in their state- 
rooms and out, with the conduct and vile talk in the 
rooms near them. Some, unwilling to be so annoyed, 
left their rooms and remained in the saloons all night. 
Broadway is not a more noted place for women of this 
class than are the boats on the North River. 

From this grade the class descends to mere ragged, 
bloated, drunken dregs, wljo offend all decency as they 
ply their trade. The second season reveals the de- 
structive j^ower of this mode of life. Pale, young wo- 
men, thin and wan ; women who know early what it 
is to want fuel and food ; women scantily clad, who 
shiver as they tell their tale and ask relief; women 
who know that life is brief, and the future without 
hope — such persons compose the great mass of street- 
walkers. A short life they lead, and if their tale is 
true, it is not a merry one. 

The court-room of the Tombs on Sunday morning, at 
six o'clock, is a suggestive place. Children from twelve 
to sixteen ; Avomen from sixteen to sixty ; women on 
their first debauch, in all their finery, and tinsel, and 
pride, with the flush of beauty on their cheeks, with 
which they hope to win in the path they have chosen, 
and from whose faces the blush has not yet passed 
away forever ; and persons in their last debauch, with- 
out anything that marks the woman left to them, — 
these indicate the life and the doom of New York 
street-walkers. 



In New York. 431 



Lll. 

HOUSES OF ASSIGNATION. 

The number of these places of resort in the city 
cannot be known. The pubHc houses n,re many, and 
are well known. But in all parts of the city, houses, 
private and public, are kept for company, and most of 
them in the midst of the fashionable and elite of the 
city. 

Most of these places are known by advertisements, 
which are well understood. A house in upper New 
York, in a fine location, is selected. It is plainly 
furnished, or quite gaudily, as the style of the house 
may permit. It is no uncommon thing for a down- 
town merchant to take a house, furnish it, hire a house- 
keeper, use as many rooms as he may wish, and then 
allow the woman to let out tbe rooms to regular 
boarders, or nightly, to parties who may come for an 
evening, or who may previously have engaged a room. 
Parties hire a room by the week or month, pay in ad- 
vance, and come and go when they please. " A widow 
lady, with more rooms than she can use ; " " rooms to 
let to quiet persons ; " " apartments to let where people 
are not inquisitive ; " " rooms to let, with board for the 
lady only," are of this class. 

To a stranger in the city, a search for board is quite 



* 



432 Sunshine and Shadow 

hazardous. A family that is not well known may not 
be reputable. One with a wife and family of daughters 
is quite as likely to get into a house of assignation as 
anywhere else. No reputable lady, who keeps a 
boarding-house, will take a gentleman and woman to 
board of whom she knows nothins;. Parties must come 
well recommended, and the fact of marriage must be 
well known. 

Cheap hotels are used for purposes of infimy. The 
hotels that rent rooms by the day are not particular 
what relation parties sustain to each other, so long as 
tlie rent is promptly paid, and no one disturbs the 
peace. One or two houses up town, run on the Eu- 
ropean plan, became so notorious as resorts of the 
abandoned, that they were compelled to close, or enter- 
tain the lowest and most vile. First-class hotel keepers 
have quite as much as they can do to keep their houses 
*free from this social nuisance. Men and women take 

rooms, and are registered as Mr. and Mrs. . The 

relation of the parties may be veiled for a day or so ; 
but the keen eyes of hptel men soon detect the position 
of the parties, and then they are packed off, be it day 
or night. Without this precaution no respectable 
house could be kept. 

Some time since a reverend gentleman was at a 
leading hotel, where he staid some days. He was in 
a fine position in a neigliboring city, and had much 
personal wealth. He was of the old school, wore a 
decidedly clerical dress — white cravat and black suit. 
At the table, near him, sat a well-dressed, quiet lady, 
not more than twenty-five years of age. She said but 
little, was elegantly arrayed, wore few ornaments, and 



In New York. 433 

those of great value, indicating wealtli and taste. She 
accepted the attentions the courteous clergyman 
bestowed. She seemed to be quite alone, seldom 
spoke to any one, made no acquaintances, and came in 
and went out unattended. A table acquaintance 
sprang up. The husband of the lady was a mercliant, 
then out of the city on business, and would be back in 
a few days ; the lady was quite alone ; knew but few 
persons ; so strange to be in a hotel alone in a large 
place like New York ; it was not alwaj^s safe to make 
acquaintances in a city, — so she said. The acquaint- 
ance ripened ; new attentions were proffered and ac- 
cepted. The parties met in the parlor, and went 
together to the public table. Soon the husband came, 
and made one of the trio. He was a quiet, gentle- 
manly-looking man, dressed in a nice black suit ; and 
his jewels, that shone from his finger and his shirt- 
bosom, were all that indicated that he was not a mail 
of the cloth. He drank a glass of wine with the at- 
tentive doctor, and thanked him for tlie kind and 
considerate attention his wife had received from his 
hands. One day, as the parties sat at their meals, 
quite cosy and chatting, a merchant came to dine. He 
was well acquainted both w^ith the clergyman and 
with the merchant and his wife. An interview was 
soon had between the new comer and the divine. 
"How long have you been acquainted with those 
parties you were to-day dining with ?" said the mer- 
chant. "Only a week or so." "Do you know who 
they are ? " " 0, yes ; he is a wealthy merchant of 
this city, and the lady is his wife, and a remarkably 
modest and agreeable woman she is." " The man is 
28 






434 Sunshine and Shadow 

not a merchant. He is one of the most notorious 
gamblers in the city, and the woman is not his wife." 
Without bidding adieu to his newly-formed acquaint- 
ances, the clergyman paid his bill and departed, with a 
firm resolution never again to be misled by appear- 
ances, never to form intimate associations with strange 
men and women at a hotel, and never to be gallant to 
a lady he knew nothing about. 






In New Yoek. 435 



LIII. 

HARRY HILL'S DANCE-HOUSE. 

WHO IS HARRY HILL ? — THE DANCE-HALL. — INSIDE VIEW. — THE COM- 
PANY. — A DARK PAGE TO READ. — THE PASTIMES. — THE MANAGER. — 
WRECKS OF CHARACTES. 

No description of New York would be complete 
without a notice of the notorious Dance-House kept by 
Harry Hill. You can find dance-houses, drinking 
saloons, and places of resort for the high and low, the 
respectable and vile. But one house in New York 
comprises all classes and conditions. It is the pride of 
Harry Hill that judges, lawyers, merchants, politicians, 
members of Congress and of the Legislature, doctors, 
and other professional men, visit and patronize his 
place. And no public resort of any description in the 
city is better known. 

WHO IS HARRY IHLL ? 

He is a man about fifty years of age, small, stocky, 
muscular — a complete type of the pugilist. He keeps 
the peace of his own concern, and does not hesitate 
to knock any man down, or throw him out of the 
door, if he breaks any of the rules of the establish- 



436 Sunshine -and Shadow 

ment. Aside from liis business, Mr. Hill is regarded 
as a fair and honorable trader, a man who keeps his 
word, is generous and noble in his impulses, kind to 
the poor, and large in his gifts to charity. 

For twelve years he has kept one of the most noted 
dance-houses in the city. His rooms are constantly 
crowded, and the profits of his hall and bar are esti- 
mated at one thousand dollars a week over all ex- 
penses. He attends closely to all departments of his 
trade. He is at the bar ; in the hall, where the dan- 
cers must be kept on the floor ; at the stage, where 
the low comedies and broad farces are played. He 
keeps the roughs and bullies in order ; he keeps jeal- 
ous women from tearing out each other's eyes ; he 
keeps the noisy drunkard quiet. With burly face and 
stocky form, he can be seen in all parts of the hall, 
shouting out, " Order ! order ! " — " Less noise there ! " 
— " Attention ! " — " Girls, be quiet ! " — and these he 
shouts all the evening. 

THE DANCE-HALL. 

This is situated on Houston Street, near Broadway. 
The building is of wood, two stories high, and very low 
studded. A huge lantern, hanging over the door, with 
its red and blue glass, is a signal to all comers. In the 
lower part is a bar, with a counter for refreshments. 
Through a narrow lane, between the counters, the 
company pass into the hall up stairs. No one is 
allowed to go up unless the admission fee of twenty- 
five cents is paid. Usually a dish of oysters and some- 
thing to drink are added to the fee. Most of this is 
clear gain to Mr. Hill. A private door admits the 



In New York. 



437 



women. They are allowed to go in free, as the dance 
would not amount to much without them. 

INSIDE VIEW. 

The hall is a curiosity. It is very low studded. It 
was originally composed of many quite small rooms. 
But partition after partition has been knocked away, 
and room added to room, till the hall is very larcre. 
The ceilings are of different heights, and remain as 
originally built. A more homely room cannot be 
found in New York. The walls are covered with 
pictures, and not one indecent or objectionable one 
can be seen. The rules of the house are hung up in 
conspicuous places, and are put in the form of poetry. 
The pith of these rules is, " No loud talking ; no pro- 
fanity; no obscene or indecent expression will be 
allowed ; no one drunken, and no one violating de- 
cency, will be permitted to remain in the room ; no 
man can sit and allow a woman to stand ; all must 
call for refreshments as soon as they arrive ; the call 
must be repeated after each dance ; and if a man does 
not dance, he must leave." The profits of the concern 
are connected with the bar, and that must be liberally 
and constantly patronized. There is no bar in the 
hall, but a long counter occupies one side. After the 
dance, each man takes his partner to the counter. 
Here he orders what he will, and the refreshments are 
sent up from below. The rules are quite rigidly en- 
forced, and the penalty for neglect is summarily in- 
flicted. 



438 Sunshine and Shadow 



THE COMPANY. 

The crowd is at all times great. Benches range 
around the sides of the room. Out of one hundred 
girls and women present, not one can be found who 
has not started on the road to ruin. They occupy the 
benches, and by their side sit the partners whom they 
have chosen for the evening. Most of the women are 
young — most of them mere girls. The decay and 
degradation that are seen at the Water Street dance- 
houses are not seen at Harry Hill's. The women are 
of a superior class. Most of them have just begun 
their life of shame. The crimson hue has not left their 
cheeks. Some of them are very pretty. Their dresses 
are rich. They wear satin, silk, velvet, and many^ 
jewels. Some have on a full dress ; some have on an 
opera attire. They would pass well in any station ; 
they would not appear bad at church, or at a concert ; 
they would attract attention at a soiree ; they would 
appear well in a Sunday school. In less than two 
years not one of these gay and elegantly-dressed 
throng will be seen at Harry Hill's. They will drink, 
behave indecently, and the stern command of the pro- 
prietor will bid them "clear out." They will be found, 
if alive, in the stews and viler dance-houses of low 
New York. It is the capital of Harry Hill to keep a 
reputable vile house, and he will do it. None but 
well-dressed and well-behaved girls can walk his saloon. 
No matter who they are, wdiere they come from, what 
appointments they make, where they go when they 
leave his place, -^ while there, they must behave. In 
that low, dingy room, on hard benches, sawdust floors, 



In New York. 439 

and walls and ceilings that indicate the building to be 
no better than a cheap, wooden tenement-house, the 
elite of the women of the town o:>ither niahtlv. The 
white patten, crimson and gaudy dress, rich velvets, 
cloaks, and genteel attires, make the dingy room look 
as if upper New York, in their best outfit, had taken 
possession of a low dwelling at Five Points for an 
evening. * 

A DARK PAGE TO READ. 

A sadder story of New York life cannot be written 
than that connected with this place. Girls of great 
promise and education ; girls accomplished, and fitted 
to adorn any station ; girls from country homes, and 
from the city ; missing maidens -, wives who have run 
away from their husbands; girls who have eloped with 
lovers ; girls from shops and factory, from trade and 
the saloon, can here be seen in the dance. The only 
child of a judge, the wife of an eminent lawyer, 
showy, flashy, and elegantly dressed, and women of a 
lower degree, all mingle. They come and go as they 
will. Women who have good homes and confiding 
husbands, girls whose mothers know not where they 
are, and would rather bury them than know that they 
went in such company, are at this hall. The quantity 
of liquor these women drink is astonishing. After 
each dance the company go to the bar and drink. 
They drink champagne when their partners can afibrd 
it. Strong liquors are in demand at all times. It is no 
imcommon thing to see a young miss take a lialf 
tumbler of undiluted liquor, and toss it oiF without 
winking. At midnight the doors close, and the com- 
pany depart. It is the rule of Mr. Hill not to keep 



440 Sunshine and Shadow 

open on the Sabbath, and he plumes hhnself greatly 
on his piety. But the dance is merry till midnight on 
Saturday. 

The men who here meet are a sight to behold. 
They crowd the centre of the floor, and jostle each 
other for want of room. Men of all grades and all 
degrees — officers in uniform ; sergeants and officers 
of police without uniform ; judges of couTts, and lead- 
ing men of the bar ; merchants, jewellers, book-men, 
and bankers ; politicians, and candidates for the high 
honors in the state and nation ; clerks, men, boys, with 
all classes and kinds. These men join in the dance, 
drink at the bar and flirt with the women, and pay the 
bills. 

THE PASTIMES. 

As the name indicates, dancing, with drinking, is the 
great pastime. This occupies the centre of the room, 
and is kejot up at regular intervals. The girls are 
called up to dance by the stern command of the pro- 
prietor, and he must be obeyed. This tiresome busi- 
ness is carried on hour after hour. Men select their 
partners as they will. If they do not, partners are 
assigned to them. The dancers are free and loose. The 
music is made by a piano, violin, double bass, and other 
instruments. During the evening all the men present 
join in the dance. When that is over, and drinks 
taken, the girls move round the room among the com- 
pany, and secure a companion for the next dance and 
for the night. 

In one corner of the hall there is a small stage. Low 
actors, suited to the company, perform at intervals. 
Punch and Judy have a box to themselves, and enter- 



Ik New York. 441 

tain the crowd. Broad songs are sung, and at each 
improper allusion, profane remark, the mention of tlie 
name of God, or anything that sneers at piety, or what 
the religious world calls sacred, are rapturously ap- 
plauded. Thus, amid low acting. Punch and Judy, 
songs and drinking, the time passes. A low, vulgar 
performance, called Mrs. Partington, in which a poor 
ventriloquist and a dirty rag baby are the chief actors, 
is repeated several times in the evening. 

THE MANAGER. 

Under Mr. Hill is a manager. For many years he 
has been in charge of this hall. He is a doctor of 
medicine. He has a finished education, and is one of 
the best newspaper writers in the city. He has now, 
and long has had, a place on a leading city journal. He 
could earn a respectable livelihood anywhere. He is 
n^ fine-looking man, and though sixty-five years old, no 
one would take him to be over forty-five. He is erect, 
with dark hair, dresses genteelly in a black suit, and is 
one of the best informed men of the country. Yet he 
flings all his gifts away, and consents to be the manager 
of this dance-house, from night to night, and from year 
to year, pandering to the lowest vices, passions, and 
persons of the city. New York is full of such ruins. 

"WRECKS OF CHARACTER. 

Harry Hill is quite free to converse about men and 
things pertaining to his concern. He keeps the names 
of prominent persons who patronize his establishment. 
He believes that men have fits of dissipation from too 
close attention to business ; from ventures that are too 



442 Sunshine and Shadow 

much for them, and losses or reverses. Prominent 
merchants, eminent men, representatives of trade in all 
its branches, men very regular in ordinary times, visit 
his rooms. Once a year, once a quarter, they come. 
The proprietor keeps a watch over them, and when he 
thinks they have drank enough, either removes them 
or sends for their friends. From the stews of New 
York, heated and often maddened by poisoned liquor, 
men come for a dance with the ga}^ throng in this 
hall. They bring with them money, from five thousand 
to fifty thousand dollars, which they are -just drunk 
enough to show. If Mr. Hill knows the parties, he 
interposes and saves them from loss. If he does not 
know them, he lets things take their course. Only 
there must be no robbery within his walls. Whatever 
bargains are made, alliances formed, traps set, the 
victim must not be snared in the dance-room of Harry 
Hill. It is his boast that no p)erson was ever robbed 
of watch, jewels, or money since he threw his doors 
open twelve years ago. Whatever crime is committed, 
it is done outside, and the police trace nothing to that 
establishment. The room is full of thieves, pick- 
pockets, prize-fighters, bullies, short-boys, and denizens 
of the bloody sixth ; females of all grades, shoplifters, 
counterfeiters, women just out of the State Prison, 
panel-thieves, and females whose trade it is to get 
employment in houses as domestics only to commit 
robbery, or admit robbers to the dwelling. By the 
side of a police sergeant sits a panel-thief By the side 
of a Broadway jeweller sits a noted shoplifter. A con- 
fidential clerk of a down-town store is drinkino^ with a 
miss who looks as if she had left her fashionable board- 



I 



In New York. 443 

ing-school just after tea. A lawyer of repute can be 
iseen drinking with a prize-fighter, and respectable 
business men mingle cosily with desperate New York 
males and females. But few men wdth money reach 
their homes till they are plucked of the cash they 
vaunt so boastingly, lucky if watch and jewels, under 
the drug, are not also taken. 

In such dens as these the ruin of well-to-do men is 
laid. Entering from curiosity, they become customers, 
and then victims. Ketchum and Jenkins took their 
first lesson in these respectable diince-houses. Bank 
clerks, and young men in confidential positions, go to 
laugh and have a jolly time of an evening. They are 
ensnared before they know it. In the lap of Delilah 
their locks are shorn, and their strength departs. 

A STAETLING CASE. 

A young man in this city represented a New^ Eng- 
land house of great wealth and high standing. lie 
was considered one of the smartest and most promising 
young men in New York. The balance in the bank 
kept by the house was very large, and the young man 
used to boast that he could draw his check any day for 
two hundred thousand dollars and have it honored. 
The New England house used a great deal of paper, 
and it could command the names of the best capitalists 
to any extent. One gentleman, a member of Con- 
gress, was reputed to be worth over half a million of 
dollars. He was .accustomed to sign notes in blank and 
leave them with the concern, so much confidence had 
he in its soundness and integrity. Yet, strange to say, 
these notes, with those of other wealthy men, with 



444 Sunshine and Shadow 

nearly the whole financial business of the house, were 
in the hands of the young manager in New York, who, 
with none to check or control him, did as he pleased 
with the funds. Every one thought him honest. Every 
one confided in his integrity. All believed that he was 
doing the business of the concern squarely and with 
great ability. 

In the mean while he took a turn at Harry Hill's 
" to relieve the pressure of business." Low amuse- 
ments, and the respectable company he found, suited 
him. From a s|)ectator he became a dancer. From 
dancing he took to drinking. From the bar he entered 
those paths to which Harry Hill's saloon is the entrance. 
He tried his hand at light play. He then went into 
gaming heavily, was stripped every night, drinking 
deeply all the while. He became enamoured with fancy 
women, clothed them in silks, velvets, and jewels, drove 
them in dashing teams through Central Park, secured 
them fine mansions, and paid the expenses of the estab- 
lishments — all this while keeping the confidence of 
his business associates. His wan, jaded, and dissipated 
look went to his devotion to business. Men who met 
him daily had no idea that he was bankrupt in char- 
acter, and had led the great house with which he was 
connected to the verge of ruin. The New England 
manager of the house was the father of the young 
man. His reputation was without a stain, and con- 
fidence in his integrity was unlimited. He had the 
management of many estates, and held large sums of 
trust money in his hands belonging to widows and 
orphans. In the midst of his business, in apparent 
health, the father dropped down dead. This brought 



J 



In New York. 445 

things to a crisis, and an exposure immediately fol- 
lowed. The great house was bankrupt, and every- 
body ruined that had anything to do with it. Those 
who supposed themselves millionnaires found them- 
selves heavily in debt. Widows and orphans lost their 
all. Men suspended business on the right hand and on 
the left. In gambling, drinking, in female society, and 
in dissijDation generallj^, this young fellow squandered 
the great sum of one million four hundred thousand 
dollars. He carried down with him hundreds of per- 
sons whom his vices and dissipation had ruined. And 
this is but a specimen of the reverses to which a fast 
New Xfivk life leads. He may be seen any day reeling 
about the street, lounging around bar-rooms, or at- 
tempting to steady his steps as he walks up and down 
the hotel entrances of the city. A sad wreck ! a terrible 
warning ! 



4:46 Sunshine and Shadow 



LIV. 

THE FRIENDS IN NEW YORK. 

THE SECT. — A QUAKER MEETING-HOUSE. — SABBATH SERVICE. — THE PREACH- 
ING. YEARLY MEETING. 

THE SECT. 

The sect usually called Quakers are known to each 
other as Friends. They are not numerous, and cannot 
well be. The large portion of them are wealthy, and 
live in fine style, surrounded with all the appliances 
that belong to cultivated life. Their children enjoy 
every advantage of education and culture that can be 
secured. They mingle with the world, catch its cus- 
toms, and withdraw gradually from the plain and sim- 
ple manners of their parents, wear the gay attire of 
fashionable life, and when they settle down, take the 
position which their wealth and culture presents. It 
is a common thing in New York for the children of 
wealthy Friends to leave the plain and unostentatious 
worship in which they have been trained, and attend 
the imposing services of some liturgical church. The 
sect in New York ranks among our best and most 
wealthy citizens. On 'change they are foremost among 
the solid merchants of New York. They are emi- 
nent in works of charity and humanity. The up-town 



In New York. 447 

movement, which has driven from the lower part of tlie 
city so many houses of worship, has not spared tlic 
Friends. Their fine down-town meeting-houses have 
^been abandoned to gas companies, pubhc schools, 
livery stables, places of amusement, and to trade. 

A QUAKER MEETING-HOUSE. 

These buildings are among the institutions of the 
city, and have marked peculiarities. The Friends do not 
go to church, but to meeting. Their places of assembly 
are called, not churches, but meeting-houses. Such a 
building; looks like an oasis in a desert. It stands in 
the centre of a plot of ground made up of several lots. 
The grass is green, and is kept in the neatest manner. 
The house is of brick, very large, and barn-like in its 
appearance. Amid merchandise, the confusion and 
turmoil of cit}^ traffic, it stands in the quiet of its own 
position, guarded by the substantial wall that surrounds 
the lot, indicating repose and thrift. Nothing can be 
plainer than the inside of the meeting-house. No 
part is painted except the front of the gallery. The 
seats are mere benches, scoured to a snowy whiteness. 
The men and women sit apart, and the house is so 
arranged that the two parts can be closed for the 
transaction of business if necessary. When business is 
transacted, the women and the men hold separate ses- 
sions. The old custom of seating people according to 
rank and age is to be found in the meeting-house of 
Friends. The greatest deference is paid to age and 
infirmity. No rudeness, or impertinence, or forward- 
ness on the part of children is allowed. The respect 
and deference paid to their superiors during publio 



448 Sunshine and Shadow 

service, bj the younger portion of the congregation, are 
very marked. The youth have seats assigned them in 
the gallery, which they occupy. In the place where in 
modern churches the pulpit stands, in the Friends' 
meeting-house there is reared a gallery for the elders. 
These " chief seats " in the assembly are filled by the 
rulers of the meetincr. Over their heads is a broad 
canoj)y not unlike a New England sounding-board. 

SABBATH SERVICE. 

The Friends are not strict Sabbatarians. They take 
literally the command of the Apostle, — " Let no man, 
therefore, judge you in respect to a holy day, or of the 
new moon, or of the Sabbath days." The first day of 
the week is not unobserved, but other days are as 
sacred. Meeting is held on our Lord's Day, and great 
interest clusters around the house when the hour of 
service arrives. Men pass into the plain structure 
whose garb gives small indication that they are of this 
peculiar people. Their names are well known among 
merchant princes and among the professions. Car- 
riages line the sidewalks, fine turnouts drive up to the 
door with footman and coachman in livery. The old 
line of Friends wear the costume of the last century. 
Many compromise the matters in dress so that it is 
difficult to tell whether they belong to the meeting or 
to the world. The larger part of the meeting, how- 
ever, are dressed in modern style, and conform to the 
fashions quite sharply. Some of the ladies who on 
First Day are plainly dressed, and yet with great 
elegance, are leaders of fashion at Saratoga and New- 
port. No one out-dresses them in style or ornament 



In New York. 440 

at the opera. They manage the matter by haviin*- 
two styles of dresses — one for the world, the other 
for devotion. 

THE PREACHING. 

In a fashionable loeality up town can be found the 
leading Friends' meeting-house of New York with its 
stone front. I attended service one Sunday in that 
l^lace. The exercises commenced promptly at half past 
ten, by a general silence that lasted half an hour. This 
was broken by an old man of ninety, who made an 
address on the words, " That thought upon His name." 
Silence followed the address for thirty minutes. An 
Engli^h preacher then spoke on the " wedge of gold 
and the Babylonish garment." He drew a sad picture 
of the defection and worldliness of the people whom he 
addressed. He especially mourned the defection of the 
younger members of the society, who, seduced by the 
pomp and show of other services, found in these the 
attractive wedge of gold and the fascinating garment 
of Babylon. His voice was thin ; he paused long after 
each sentence ; he grasped the rail with both hands 
with earnest energy, and was followed by silence so 
long that I thought it would not again be broken. The 
wife of the English speaker at length arose, and with 
great deliberation divested herself of bonnet and shawl, 
and conunenced speaking. Her address was composed 
of passages of Scripture most beautifully joined to- 
gethei\ Her utterance was very distinct, her cadence 
peculiar, and her voice so sweet that it rings in the ear 
like the melody of a beautiful song. The sentiments 
uttered and the manner and spirit of the meeting would 
have been regarded as evangelical anywhere. The 
29 



450 Sunshine and Shadow 

address of the lady was followed by a longer pause. 
Many were employing the moments in devotion. But 
I saw the usual number of sleepers that adorn the 
assemblies of other sects. Tlie leaders at length arose, 
and shook hands with each other. This was the signal 
for a general rising, and the audience dispersed. 

YEARLY MEETING. 

This annual convocation of Friends is very interest- 
ing, even to " the world's people," as the Friends call 
outsiders. Most of the business is private. But there 
are daily publi(r meetings to which all are invited. Not 
far from two thousand Friends come to this city to 
hold the Yearly Meeting. Prominent men from all 
portions of our country and from Europe attend as 
rejDresentatives. Old men are not at a discount among 
the Friends. It is customary in other sects to consider 
a minister acceptable according to his youth. When 
all is got out of him that can be got, and a minister is 
old, he is turned aside for a younger man. Among the 
Friends, age is a passport to the highest honors and the 
most respectful attentions. When an old man comes 
into a meeting, young men meet him at the door and 
escort him to the chief seats. When an aged woman 
comes in, the young women arise and lead her to a 
comfortable place, and put cushions under her feet. 
This respect for age is patriarchal. It recalls the plains 
of Mamre and the fields of Boaz, and might safely be 
imitated by other denominations. In the Yearly 
Meeting the women have their leaders, as do the men. 
Tliey hold their own business meetings, and admit and 
cut off members. Except in some matters that demand 



In New York. 451 

the approval of the other house, they are as inrlepen- 
dent as if there was not a man in the land. Like other' 
denominations, the Friends are broken np into parties 
and cliques. Radicals disturb the peace of this quiet 
fold ; conservatism, refusing to stir, puts on the brakes. 
They know the divisions of the Old School and the New. 
Those who believe in, and those who deny the divinity 
of the Savior, bear the name of Friends. In common 
with all devout people, they mourn the degeneracy of 
these days, and sigh for the better times in which their 
fathers lived. The custom of cutting off those who 
marry outside of the Meeting takes from the sect the 
life blood by which it is to be nourished, and carries its 
strength to other churches. 



452 Sunshine and Shadow 



LV. 

THE CHILDREN OF ABRAHAM. 

THE JEWS IN NEW YORK. — THE SYNAGOGUES. — INNOVATIONS. — THE FEAST 
OF THE PASSOVER. JEWISH SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 

THE JEWS IN NEW YORK. 

The people of Israel are very numerous. A portion 
of them are intelligent, respectable, and wealthy. The 
leading bankers are Jews of this class ; so are the 
importers, who have almost wholly monopohzed a 
large portion of the foreign trade. But the Jews of 
the lower class are disagreeable, and their presence a 
nuisance to any Christian neighborhood. If tliey get 
into a block, they infest it like the plague. Per.sons 
in search of a house invariably ask, "• Are there any 
Jews in the block ? " Their social customs and habits, 
their pastimes, and the manner in which they spend 
the Sabbath, are so unlike our own, that it is impossible 
to dwell with them with any comfort. When they get 
into a neighborhood, in any numbers, it is deserted by 
all others. There are some beautiful watering-places 
in the vicinity of New York where the Jews hold 
entire possession. They came in few at a time, and 
Christian families had to desert the place ; they could 
not live with them. One of the large hotels at Long 



In New York. 453 

Branch is the rendezvous of Jewish families. A now 
hotel, erected two years ago, was occupied by lending 
families from this and other cities, on the express 
condition that Jewish women and children should not 
be allowed in the house. Every means has been 
resorted to by the people of Israel to get rooms in this 
hotel, and fabulous prices offered. But up to this time 
none have been admitted. A half dozen families would 
drive away all who were not of Israel. These people 
may be just as good as Christians moralh^, 3'et their 
social customs make them so disagreeable that parties 
who have money to spend, and can choose their loca- 
tion, will not dwell with them. The prophecy uttered 
by Balaam over three thousand years ago, that " Israel 
shall dwell alone," seems to have a literal fulfilment. 

JEWS OF THE LOWER CLASS. 

Portions of the city on the east side are wholly given 
up to this nation. Chatham Street is the bazaar of the 
lower Jews. It is crowded with their places of trade, 
and over their stores they generally live. Noisy and 
turbulent, they assail all who pass, solicit trade, and 
secure general attention and general contempt. They 
know no Sabbath. On Saturday, their national Sab- 
bath, they keep open stores because they live m a 
Christian country. On Sunday they trade because 
they are Jews. The lower class of this people are 
foreigners, and fraud is their capital. They go aboard 
of an emigrant ship with their worldly effects nailed up 
in a small wooden box. Tlie authorities at Castle 
Garden know them well, and watch them on their 
landing. They frequently demand a plethoric trunk, 



454 Sunshine and Shadow 

present for It a check, and carry oif their prize. It is 
their custom to watch their chance on ship-board, and 
transfer the hibel from their own mean box to the 
well-filled trunk of somebody else. They often leave 
the old country without means, and land with a hand- 
some outfit, plundered from some luckless emigrant. 

THE SYNAGOGUES. 

These are very numerous. Some of them are very 
elegant and costly, and their locations are unsurpassed. 
Following the pattern after which the synagogue was 
built in which the Savior preached his first sermon at 
Nazareth, so the synagogues in New York are built. 
Men worship with their hats on. It is as disrespectful 
to take your hat oflT in a Jewish synagogue as it is to 
keep it on in a church. The men sit below. Women 
sit in the gallery, and they are not allowed to enter 
the enclosure where the men worship. A more ir- 
reverent congregation, apparently, cannot be found 
than the Jews at worship. They wear scarfs over their 
shoulders while engaged in devotions. If they see a 
person they wish to speak to, or make a trade with, 
they take the scarf off their shoulders, throw it over 
their arm, and talk on friendship or business, as the 
case may be, and then replace the scarf and continue 
their worship. Psalms are sung, led by a ram's horn ; 
the law read, as it was in Mount Zion in the days of 
David and Solomon. The audience room looks like the 
Corn Exchange. The centre of the room holds a plat- 
form, which is railed in, on which is a huge table for 
the reading of the law. The number of men about the 
table, their business-like appearance, their bustling 



In New York. 455 

back and forth with their liats on, many of thoni peer- 
ing over the same book, suggests that this is a tln-iving 
mercantile house, where a good business is carried on 
hy earnest men, who speak in a foreign tongue. 

INNOVATIONS. 

Even Israel has its troubles. New men nnd new 
measures have got into the synagogue, filling the 
friends of the old order of things with sorrow and 
alarm. The Rabbis preach about the degeneracy of 
the times, the new-fangled notions of this ai>'e, the 
abandonment of the old landmarks of the fathers, and 
the better days of the olden time. The wealthiest 
Jews have built synagogues according to modern 
ideas. Families do not sit apart, but together in pews, 
accordino; to the Christian ideas. This is a great 
scandal of the faithful in Israel. The rani's horn is 
laid aside, and a costly organ leads the devotions. 
The tunes of the patriarchs are abandoned for the 
sweeter melodies of the nineteenth century. 

Not in religion alone are these innovations found, 
but they touch the culinary arrangements of the Jews, 
and affect their domestic customs. A friend of mine, 
not long since, was invited to dine with a wealthy Jew, 
whose name is well known among the most enu'nent 
business men of the city. The table was elegantly 
spread, and among the dishes was a line ham and some 
oysters, both forbidden by the law of Moses. A little 
surprised to see these prohibited dishes on the table, 
and anxious to know how a Jew would explam the 
introduction of such forbidden food, in consistency 
with his allecriance to the Mosaic law, my friend called 



456 Sunshine and Shadow 






the attention of the Jew to their presence. "Well 
said the host, " I belong to that portion of the people 
of Israel who are changing the customs of our lathers 
to conform to the times and country in which we live. 
We make a distinction between what is moral in the 
law, and, of course, binding, and what is sanitary. The 
pork of Palestine was diseased and unwholesome. It 
was not fit to be eaten, and therefore was prohibited. 
But Moses never tasted a slice of Cincinnati ham. 
Had he done so, he would have commanded it to be 
eaten. The oysters of Palestine were coppery and 
poisonous. Had the great lawgiver enjoyed a fry or 
stew of Saddlerocks or Chesapeake Bay oysters, he 
would have made an exception in their favor. We 
keep the spirit of the law, and not the letter." 

The new synagogue in upper New York, on Fifth 
Avenue, called Beth-Emanuel (or the Temple of God, 
in English), is to be the most costly and elegant reli- 
gious edifice in all New York. It is in the quaint 
Moorish or Saracenic style, and in finish, gorgeous- 
ness, and richness, will be unequalled. It will be 
adorned with minarets, pinnacles, and Oriental turrets 
of great height. The sides are to be ornamented with 
columns of Moorish pattern and painting. The main 
entrance is to restore the pattern of Solomon's Temple, 
with its brazen gates and gorgeousness of exterior. 
No Christian temples, in expense or in elegance equal 
the synagogues of the Jews. 



In New York. 457 



THE FEAST OF THE PASSOVER. 

This festivnl is held in all reverence by the Jews. 
It begins on Friday at six o'clock. No pleasant bread 
is eaten, and no pleasant drink taken during its con- 
tinuance. The synagogues are crowded. The so- 
lemnities of Zion are kept as they were three centuries 
ago in Jerusalernj — 

"When 
The timbrel rang along their halls, 
And God couuiiuned with men." 

The Passover bread is of the first quality. The 
flour is selected by the priests, and must be made of 
the finest wheat. It takes eighteen hundred barrels 
to supply the Passover bread for New York. It is 
mixed in sacred vessels, which are kept by the Rabbis. 
Holy men keep watch over the flour from the time it 
leaves the barrel until it is put into the oven. Holy 
men receive it as it comes from the oven, and guard 
the sacred food until it i^ distributed to the fluthful. 
Everything is done that vigilance can suggest to guard 
the bread from the touch of the Gentiles, and from 
everything that the law pronounces unclean. 

JEWISH SUNDAY SCHOOLS. 

Not alone in food and in the order of worship are the 
children of Israel subject to innovation, but their re- 
ligion is assailed from quarters that admit of no defence. 
The Sunday schools of New York are very numerous. 
In spite of themselves the Jewish children have to 
mingle w^ith the children of the Gentiles. The Sunday 
schools are very attractive ; the music, the cheerful 



458 Sunshine and Shadow 

songs, the interesting books and papers, the flowers, 
and the exhilaration of the gatherings, are irresistible. 
Large numbers of Jewish children attend the Sunday 
schools. They hear of the Savior ; they learn to sing 
his praise ; they go home and fill the house with song 
about the Babe in Bethlehem, and the Holy One who 
took little children in his arms. To preserve their 
children from such influences as grow out of a Sunday 
school, the Jews have been compelled to mark the day 
on which the Savior arose from the dead by opening a 
school of their own. These schools are conducted by 
the Rabbi, who does not allow any one but himself to 
impress religious truth on the miirds of children. The 
exercises consist of lessons in the Hebrew tongue from 
the Law, the Prophet, and the Psalms. The Jewish 
catechism is taught, and the singing consists of chant- 
ing the Psalms of David. This peculiar people, who 
have rejected the Messiah for so many years, bear in 
their persons, as a nation and a race, proof that He who 
spoke of them was the Lord from heaven. 



In New York. 459 



LVI. 

JACOB LITTLE, THE GREAT BEAR OF 

WALL STREET. 

Jacob Little originated the daring, dashing style of 
business in stocks, by which fortunes are made and lost 
in a day. He was born in Newburyport, Mass., and 
early exhibited great tact and aptitude for business. 
In 1817 he came to New York, and entered the store 
of Jacob Barker, who was at that time the most shrewd 
and talented merchant in the city. He remained with 
his master five years, and completed his financial edu- 
cation. In 1822 he opened an office in a small base- 
ment in Wall Street. Caution, self-reliance, integrity, 
and a far-sightedness beyond his years, marked his 
early career. For twelve years he worked in his little 
den as few men work. His ambition was to hold the 
foremost place in Wall Street. Eighteen hours a day 
he devoted to business — twelve hours to his office. 
His evenings he spent in visiting retail houses to pur- 
chase uncurrent money. He was prompt/* energetic, 
reliable. He executed all orders committed to hun 
with fidelity. He opened a correspondence with lead- 
ing bankers in all the principal cities from New York 
to New Orleans. 



460 Sunshine and Shadow 

Twelve years of industry, integrity, and energetic 
devotion to business placed Mr. Little at the head of 
financial ojjerations in Wall Street. He identified him- 
self with the style of business known as " Bearing 
Stocks." He was called the Great Bear on 'change. 
His mode of business enabled him to roll up an almost 
mitold fortune. He held on to his system till it hurled 
liim down and beat him to pieces, as it had done many 
a strong man before. For more than a quarter of a 
century Mr. Little's office in the old Exchange building 
was the centre of daring, gigantic speculations. On 
'change his tread was that of a king. He could sway 
and disturb the street when he pleased. He was 
rapid and prompt in his dealings, and his purchases 
were usually made with great judgment. He had 
unusual foresight, which at times seemed to amount to 
-prescience. He controlled so large an amount of stock 
that he was called the Napoleon of the Board. When 
capitalists regarded n^ilroads with distrust, he put him- 
self at the head of the railroad movement. He com- 
prehended the j)rofit to be derived from their construc- 
tion. In this way he rolled up an immense fortune, 
and was known everywhere as the Railway King. 

He was the first to discover when the business was 
overdone, and immediately changed his course. At 
this time the Erie was a favorite stock, and was sellim? 
at par. Mr. Little threw himself against the street. 
He contracted to sell a large amount of this stock, to 
be delivered at a future day. His rivals in Wall Street, 
anxious to floor him, formed a combination. They 
took all the contracts he offered, bought up all the new 
stock, and placed everj^thing out of Mr. Little's reach, 






In New York. 4G1 

making it, as they tlioiiglit, impossible for Iiim to carry 
out his contracts. His ruin seemed inevitable, as his 
rivals had both his contract and the stock. IC Mr. 
Little saw the way out of his trouble, he ke[)t his 
own secrets ; he asked no advice, solicited no acconuno- 
dation. The morning dawned when the stock must be 
delivered, or the Great Bear of Wall Street break. 
He came down to his office that morning self-reliant 
and calm as usual. He said nothing about his business 
or his prospect. At one o'clock he entered the office 
of the Erie company. He presented certain certificates 
of indebtedness ^vhich had been issued by the corpora- 
tion. By those certificates the company had covenanted 
to issue stock in exchansre. That stock Mr. Little 
demanded. Nothing could be done but to comply. 
AVith that stock he met his contract, floored the con- 
spirators, and triumphed. 

Reverses so common to all ^vho attempt the treach- 
erous sea of speculation at length overtook Mr. Little. 
Walking from Wall Street with a friend one day they 
passed through Union Square, then the abode of our 
wealthiest people. Looking at the rows of elegant 
houses, Mr. Little remarked, " I have lost money enough 
to-day to buy this whole square. Yes," he added, 
" and half the people in it." Three times he became 
bankrupt, and what was then regarded as a colossal 
fortune was in each instance swept away. In each 
failure he recovered, and paid his contracts in full. It 
was a common remark among the capitalists, that 
"Jacob Little's suspended papers were better than the 
checks of most men." 

His personal appearance w\as commanding. He was 



.462 Sunshine and Shadow 

tall and slim ; his eye expressive ; his face indicated 
talent; the whole man inspired confidence. He was 
retiring in his manner, and quite diffident except in 
business. He was generous as a creditor. If a man 
could not meet his contracts, and Mr. Little was satis- 
fied that he was honest, he never pressed him. After 
his first suspension, though legally free, he paid every 
creditor in full, though it took nearly a million of dol- 
lars. He was a devout member of the Episcopal 
Church. His charities were large, unostentatious, and 
limited to no sect. The Southern Rebellion swept 
away his remaining fortune, yet, without a murmur, 
he laid the loss on the altar of his country. He died 
in the bosom of his family. His last words were, " I 
am going up. Who will go with me ? " 



In New York. 4G3 



LVII. 

METHODISM IN NEW YORK. 

ITS ORIGIN. — HORSE AND CART LANE. — THE LIBERALITY OF THE EARLY 
CHRISTIANS IN NEW YORK. — THE GROWTH OF THE CHURCH. — THE DREW 
THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 

ITS ORIGIN. 

A BAND of Irish emigrants brought Methodism to this 
city. They were converted in England by the preach- 
ing of Jolm Wesley. Under the preaching of the father 
of Methodism, jnst eight years before he reached New 
York, Philip Embury was converted. He was a local 
preacher, a carpenter by trade, and earned his bread 
by the sweat of his brow. The Methodists were few 
in number. They had no pastor, no altar, no class- 
meetings, no love-feasts. A few separated themselves 
from the sinful amusements of the day. But these 
buried their talents, and took no active part in religion. 
Philip Embury is called the Father of the Methodist 
Church in America. But it is very clear that the 
Mother of the Church was Barbara Hicks. In a small 
house occupied by Methodists a company was gatli- 
ered one night, playing cards. Among the company 
was Philip Embury ; but whether he was playing cards 
or not seems to be as unsettled a question in history as 
whether John Roirers, who was burned at the stake, had 



4G4 Sunshine and Shadoav 

nine children or ten. While the revellers were in the 
midst of their pleasure, the door opened, and Barbara 
Hicks walked into the room. She seized the cards and 
threw them into the fire, burning the idols, as she called 
them. Like a prophetess of old, with uplifted hands 
and earnest tone she rebuked the Christians in Zion 
who were crucifying Christ afresh. She turned to Em- 
bury, and said, " Brother Embury, you must preach to 
us, or we shall all go to hell, and God will require our 
blood at your hands." Her appearance and utterance 
spread consternation through the company. Embury, 
alarmed, felt the call as from God. His house was 
located on what is now known as Park Place, near 
Broadway. It was a small wooden cottage, one story 
Iiio'h, with one window and a door in front. Without 
chapel or congregation, Embury began to preach in his 
own house. Here he laid the foundations of Method- 
ism, preached the first sermon, met the first class, and 
formed the first Methodist Society in New York. The 
room was small, but it was large enough for the con- 
gregation, which was composed of six persons. 

HORSE AND CART LANE. 

The little sect soon outo;rew its narrow limits. A 
rigging loft, which occupied the site now known as 
120 William Street, was^ hired as a chapel. It was 
situated on what was then known as Horse and Cart 
Lane. A tavern sign with a horse and cart painted on 
it fjave the name to the narrow street. The room was 
rented at a small cost, and was plain and comfortable. 
One Sunday the little band in the rigging loft were 
greatly alarmed by the entrance of a military officer. 



In New York. 4G5 

He was dressed in full uniform, scarlet coat and "old 
trimmings, and his sword was by his side. He was tall 
and connnanding in appearance, and had one eye 
covered with a green silk shade. He was an ofHcer of 
the British army. He lost his right eye in the memo- 
rable battle on the Plains of Abraham. He was con- 
verted under the preaching of Wesle}^, and identified 
himself with the Methodists. He was barrack-master 
at Albany, but he preached Christ to his fellow-men as 
often as opportunity offered. It was his custom to 
preach in full uniform. His sword he laid upon the 
Bible. He had heard of the meeting in the riggimi-- 
loft, and had come from Albany to worship with the 
little band. The company extended a warm welcome 
to Thomas Wells, and he preached to them with great 
acceptance. 

THE LIBERALITY OF THE EARLY CHRISTIANS IN NEAV YORK. 

Nothinc: is more marked than the freedom from big- 
otry and persecution which distinguished the conduct of 
the early Christians of New Amsterdam. The Dutch were 
owners of the soil, which they bought from the savages. 
They had a la^v, by which no other sect except the 
Episcopal could build churches within the limits of the 
city. But so long as they were left in the undisturbed 
possession of their customs they cared not who came 
or who preached. They rescued the first Catholic 
missionary who came to New York, and refused to give 
him up, though the savages threatened to attack the 
white settlements; paid the ransom demanded for hnn, 
paid his expenses to France, and gave him a letter of 
protection till he should reach his home. The Dutch 
30 



4G6 Sunshine and Shadow 

welcomed the Episcopalians, and gave tliem the use of 
their house of worship a part of the day on the Sabbath, 
till their own house should be built. When the Dutch 
built a new church, the Episcopalians presented them 
with an organ as a testimonial of their good will. 

The same catholic spirit greeted the fomiding of the 
Methodist Church. Mary Barkley, the widow of the 
second rector of Trinity Church, owned a piece of land 
called the Shoemaker's Ground. In 1768, Mrs. Barkley 
leased that lot of land to the Methodists. It was on 
John Street, and on it they placed a chapel for worship. 
The deed of purchase is dated 1770. On it was erected 
the first Methodist Church in America. The present 
John Street Church stands on the same site. The first 
Methodist Church was erected by the assistance of 
Christians of all denominations. Among; the donors 
were Robert Livingston, the signer of the Declaration 
of Independence, Duane, the first mayor of the citj^, 
Delancj^ the recorder, Lieutenant-Governor of the 
state, officers of Trinity Church, and distinguished 
citizens generally. They gave their money, so the 
paper ran, "to build a house for the service of Al- 
mighty God, after the manner of the people called 
Methodists." The chapel, named after Wesley, was of 
stone, and stood some distance from the street. It was 
occupied for many years in an unfinished state. The 
galleries were mere lofts, without breastwork or stairs. 
The hearers ascended by means of a ladder. While 
the chapel was being built, the preacher worked as a 
carpenter on the edifice. He afterwards preached the 
dedication sermon. The house was lighted at night by 
each hearer carrying his own candle. It was contrary 



In New York. 407 

to law for Dissenters to build a cluircli or cliapel in the 
city. Anxious to have a house of worship of their own, 
the conscientious Methodists sought the Dutch author- 
ities to know how the law might be kept, and they 
have a house of worship. " Put a fireplace and chimney 
in your building," said the liberal guardians of the law, 
" and it will be a dwelling and not a church." This 
-vvas done. On the erection of the chapel, the preacher's 
house, as it was called, was built in the yard in front of 
the place of worship. It was a wooden building, small, 
and rough. It was gloomy within, for windows were 
few. Those who lived in it said it was cold as a barn. 
It Avas furnished by the congregation, but in the plain- 
est style. Stairs connected it with the chapek Its 
roof sheltered some of the noblest men of the land. 

THE GROWTH OF THE CHURCH. 

The little sect, which in 1760 numbered but six per- 
sons in the congregation, and gathered those in a small 
private room, now numbers its church members by mil- 
lions, and has over twelve thousand churches and twelve 
thousand preachers. Its places of worship are among 
the most costly and elegant in the land. Among the 
wdiite marble and brown-stone churches in this city, 
with the elegant adornments of painting and sculpture, 
with all modern appliances, with organs and choirs, 
none exceed the Methodists'. Their friends rank 
among the foremost merchants, bankers, and million- 
naires. They are found among the leaders in all the pro- 
fessions. The denomination move with the order, com- 
pactness, and efficiency of an army. The Book Con- 
cern, founded by the foresight of a few wise men, with 



468 Sunshine and Shadow 

a very small capital, and that borrowed, is the great 
power of the church. From its funds the bishops are 
supported, and the great denominational interests 
sustained. Its Sunday school literature is unequalled. 
It commands the best talent in the land. Its authors 
need not be Methodists. If a book is good it is 
liberally paid for. Leading denominations purchase 
their Sunday school literature from the Book Con- 
cern, and have their imprint placed upon the edition 
they buy. 

THE DREW THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 

Among the early friends of the Methodist Church is 
the well-known millionnaire, Daniel Drew. He has 
always been a liberal supporter of Methodism. The 
centenary year of the church occurring in 1866, two gen- 
tlemen called on Mr. Drew and requested him to make 
a donation as a centenary gift. Without a moment's 
hesitation, he replied, "I will give you two hundred 
and fifty thousand dollars to found a Theological Sem- 
inar3\" That seminary has been ojDened at Madison, 
N. J. Mr. Drew has already spent over half a million, 
and his plans for buildings, library, etc., will come up to 
the full sum of one million of dollars, all of which is a 
free gift to the church of his youth. This great dona- 
tion is deeded to the Conference of the Methodist 
Church. It has helped to swell the seven millions 
contributed in one year as a centenary offering. Be- 
sides this, the Conference owns in real estate the 
additional sum of seven millions of dollars. The church 
enters on a new era full of promise and full of strength. 



In New York. 469 



LVIII. 

MADAME D E M O R E S T . 

This lady is one of the representative women of the 
age. She is a good specimen of an earnest, resohite 
woman, with intelligence, tact, and brain, starting out 
in life with an aim, and following it persistently until 
it is secured. She was born in Saratoga, where she 
grew to womanhood beneath her mother's roof She 
felt the stirrings of genius, and formed the resolution 
early to make her own mark in the world. She ap- 
prenticed herself to the trade of dress-making, and 
mastered it. She then learned the millinery business 
in all its departments. She need not have done this; 
but as she intended to have an establishment of her 
own, she knew how valuable to her would be a practi- 
cal knowledge of all the branches of the business into 
which she proposed to enter. 

She opened her New York establishment in a small 
way. She imported foshions, and adapted them herself 
to the taste of our people, giving the benefit of her 
skill and establishment, not only to the wealthy and 
fashionable, but to persons in middle life and to the 
lowly. She banished the old, tedious, painful method 
of fitting dresses, and introduced a system that has 
been taught to more than ten thousand persons, carry- 



470 _ Sunshine and Shadow 

ing comfort to thousands of homes, and teaching wo- 
men an art by which they can gain a comfortable 
livehhood. 

Pier two great estabhshments in New York have 
become the headquarters of fashion. They are crowded 
daily. By a system peculiarly her own, Madame De- 
morest can send to any portion of our land the latest 
fashions in an envelope, so that among the mines of 
Colorado, on the Pacific coast, in the dense forests, or 
in the interior of the continent, the ladies can make 
their own dresses in the latest style. This lady has 
over three hundred branches in the leading cities and 
towns of the United States, all of which are supplied 
from the headquarters in New York. Over two hun- 
dred girls are employed in the central establishment 
on Broadway. She superintends her establishment in 
person. She is independent in her opinions and views, 
is an earnest Christian and reformer. She has received 
several patents from the government for articles of 
dress, uniting utility, elegance, and health. 

When philanthropy was not as popular as now, and 
when respectable and intelligent colored girls could not 
find employment in establishments called fashionable, 
Madame Demorest welcomed them to her Broadway 
rooms, gave them the same wages, and a seat in the 
same work-room that was assigned to others. At first, 
fashionable ladies flaunted out of the rooms, and an- 
nounced that they would not patronize an establish- 
ment that employed negro girls. But they were glad 
to come back, as they could not get their work done 
elsewhere. Madame Demorest early bound herself up 
with the charities and humanities of the age. When it 



In New York. 471 

was very fasliionable to crowd the sideboards with liquor 
on New Year's, she Ijanished from her table every kind 
of intoxicating drink. Tlie young women w]io are 
with her find her a steadfist friend, and seldom leave 
her establishment except to get married, or to set up 
in business for themselves. She is liberal to the lowly 
and the poor, and no child of want or sorrow appeals to 
her in vain. 

The Demorest Monthly Magazine, now conducted by 
W. Jennings Demorest, one of the most successful and 
enterprising magazines in the land, originated in the 
humblest way, without a thought that it would reach 
its present dimensions. Presenting a few patterns, and 
combining literature with fashion, it was sent forth to 
acquaint the community with the new mode of supply- 
ino; their wants. It met the necessities of the home, 
and was greedily purchased on all hands. It took its 
position with a bound among the foremost monthlies 
of the ao^e. Amonu; the contributors to its columns are 
many of the first writers of the land — novelists, poets, 
historians, and lady writers of celebrity. 



472 Sunshine and Shadow 



LIX. 

GENERAL GRANT IN NEW YORK, 



HIS ARRIVAL. HOW THE GENERAL GOT INTO THE ARMY. — GENERAL SCOTT 

ON GENERAL GRANT. MR. LINCOLN RECALLS III.1I. — A FATHER'S OPIN- 
ION OF HIS SON. — THE ORATION. MRS. GRANT. — GENERAL GRANT IN 

PRIVATE LIFE. 

Soon after his appointment as Lieutenant General in 
the army, General Grant visited New York. It was 
said he could not hold communication with the army 
without interruption at Washington, as his telegrams 
were tamj^ered with. He came unattended and un- 
heralded. He was some days in New York before the 
people knew of his arrival. It was by his order that 
the telegraph and press were silent. He passed most 
of his time in the private apartments of Mr. Stetson. 
In his social habits he has the simplicity of a child, is 
unostentatious, and makes friends everywhere. 

HIS ARRIVAL. 

He reached the Astor House at midnight. A part}^ 
of gentlemen had secured a private parlor, and ordered 
a dinner without regard to cost. It was spread in the 
most elegant style of the Astor. The party were 
impatiently waiting for the call to dinner. Young 



In New Youk. 473 

Charles Stetson entered the room, and said, '' Gentle- 
men, I am sorry to disturb you, but I must have this 
room, and the dinner as it stands. I can make no ex- 
planations now. I will make it all right with 3-0 u to- 
morrow." Stunned and disappointed, the party sepa- 
rated, and General Grant and his friends sat down to 
the magnificent dinner. 

AN ADJUTANT GENERAL's STOIIY. 

While the general was at the Astor, the adjutant 
general under Governor Yates was in the rotunda. As 
General Grant passed him to go to dinner, ho said to 
some friends, " When I look at that man I can scarcely 
believe my senses. Three 3'ears have made a great 
change in his position and prospects. I gave him the 
first appointment that he had during the war. His 
antecedents were not such as to hope a great deal from 
him, lie obtained no employment for a long while. 
At the earnest solicitation of his friends, and by Gov- 
ernor Yates's command, I appointed him to a clerkship 
in m}' office. He made a very poor clerk. We should 
not have kept him but for the outside pressure. He 
seldom said anything, engaged in conversation with 
but few persons, and seemed rather stupid than other- 
wise. Governor Yates had raised a reu'iment, which 
was a sort of pet with hiui. It was very uiutinous, 
and no man could control it. One day Captain Grant 
came up to me, and in a quiet way said, ' I wish 3'ou 
would irive me the command of that regiment. I 
think I can manage it.' After much persuasion Gov- 
ernor Yates consented. Grant put the regiment im- 
mediately on a march. On halting, the chief mutinous 



474 Sunshine and Shadow 

spirit walked deliberately out of the ranks. Grant had 
him immediately seized, pinioned, and sent to the rear 
imder guard. Several symptoms of insubordination 
were developed on the march. They were met at once 
and severely punished. The tramp the regiment took 
was fifty miles. The column was then turned, and 
marched back. The colonel then addressed the boys, 
telling them what they could depend upon while he 
held command. He knew how to treat good soldiers 
and reduce refractory ones. Those who had behaved 
themselves he gave leave of absence ; those who be- 
haved ill he put to unpleasant police duty and on 
guard. He told the regiment that he should deal 
kindly with all who did their duty ; ' but/ said he, ' if 
you do not obey orders, I will march you one hundred 
miles on the next trip, and shoot every mutinous man 
found in the ranks.' " 

HOW THE general GOT INTO THE AEMY. 

In the incident just detailed we see the first step in 
General Grant's military career. At the opening of 
the rebellion, "Mr. Grant," as he was then called, 
resided at Galena. He had been educated at West 
Point at the public expense. He was with General 
Scott in Mexico as lieutenant, but all unknown to the 
command in 9^ general. In Galena he was connected 
with his father's tan-yard. He was a plain, matter-of- 
fact sort of man, with little force, as it was supposed, 
attracting no particular attention any way. The flag 
had been shot away from Sumter. It had been blown 
out of the rebel cannon at Memphis. Our armies had 
done but little, and the prospect for the future was not 



In New York. 475 

brilliant. One morning Mr. Grant called on Mr.Wash- 
burne, a member of Congress who resides at Galena, 
and said to him, " Mr. Washburne, I do not feel ri^dit 
in regard to my position while the war is going on in 
defence of the Union. I am not doing my duty, and I 
cannot sleep nights. I am doing nothing. I have 
been educated at the nation's expense. I am not lift- 
in ii* a fino-er to aid her in this dark hour. I am no 
politician. I don't know what I can do. I feel as if I 
was fit for something, if I (;an only find my place." 
Mr. Washburne was about visiting Springfield to hold 
an important consultation with Governor Yates, and he 
invited his neiglibor to accompany him. On the morn- 
ing of the fourth day after their arrival, Mr. Grant 
called at the rooms of Mr. Washburne. Mr. Grant 
said, " Mr. Washburne, I don't seem to be wanted here. 
Nobody knows me. There is nothing for me to do, 
and I am going home." " Hold on a day longer," said 
Mr. Washburne. An important consultation was held 
in the chamber next morning. At Mr. Washburne's 
request Mr. Grant was called in. He held an interview 
with the state authorities for about thirty minutes. He 
made a plain, common-sense, soldierly statement. With 
the word, as with the sword, he cut the Gordian knot 
of their difficulties. He pointed out the straight path 
in which they could walk without trouble. He then 
left the room. Governor Yates exclaimed, " Good God, 
Washburne, who is this man ? I have learned more 
about troops in thirty minutes than I knew before in 
all my life. All I can do for him now is to put him 
on my staff He must not be lost to the national 
cause." 



476 Sunshine and Shadow 

His first business was at the state barj:"ack, where he 
was to prepare troops for march when the governor 
should call for them. Things had been loosely done 
at the state rendezvous, and seldom were men ready 
when called for. The governor used to send his order 
for men a week or two in advance. His first requisi- 
tion was for a thousand men, fidly equipped, to be at 
the state capital on a given day at the hour of noon. 
Promptly on the hour a colonel reported to the adju- 
tant general, and much to his astonishment, as the men 
were not wanted for several days. They found that 
Grant obeyed orders. He was ready at any hour for 
any emergency. The state barrack became a model 
for the army. Letters from the War Department, 
commendatory of the troops, praising their discipline 
and their fine equipment, reached Governor Yates. 
Such a man as Grant could not Ions; remain in a sub- 
ordinate position. He was commissioned as colonel of 
one of the finest regiments that left Illinois. 

GENERAL SCOTT ON GENERAL GRANT. 

When General Grant first began to loom up as a 
military man, when ho was gaining his first victories, 
— not only fighting battles, but spoiling the enemy, — 
he attracted general attention. It was the time when 
Mr. Lincoln referred to him as one of the most promis- 
ing officers in the army, some one said, " Mr. President, 
Grant drinks." " Docs he?" said Mr. Lincoln. "I wish 
I knew what whiskey he drinks. I would have some 
ordered for the other generals in the arm}^" About 
this time I called on General Scott, who was then 
residing at Delmonico's. In referring to the war, 



In New Youk. 477 

General Scott said, "I never knew a war of this nia'-ni- 
tucle that did not throw to the surface some eminent 
mihtary character. Our war so far has produced no 
such person. We have had splendid fighting and 
brilhant engagements, but we have not crippled the 
enemy, and have carried away no success. Both armies 
have retired in good condition, ready to renew the 
conflict next day. A war would be perpetual in which 
the enemy was not worsted, crippled, and his means 
of renewing the conflict destroyed. I don't know," he 
said, " but what I ought to make an exception in favor 
of that young man who is out on the Mississippi. lie 
seems to know how to fight. He not only gains 
victories, but cripples the enemy. So far, certainly, he 
is the hero of the war." 

MR. LINCOLN RECALLS HIM. 

To suit the soldiers who compose the home guard, 
who took care of the " spoils," filled the civil offices, 
and gave Mr. Lincoln daily instructions about running 
the government, General Grant's movements before 
Vicksburg were too slow. A strong pressure Avas 
brought to bear on Mr. Lincoln to remove him. All 
sorts of stories were told about his habits, his military 
incapacity, and his life as a soldier. Mr. Lincoln 
yielded, and an order for the removal of General Grant 
from the command of Vicksburg was made out at the 
War Department, and countersigned by the President. 
The adjutant general was sent on to relieve General 
Grant. He reached the headquarters about noon. 
The commanding general was from his post. Ihe 
adjutant general took the opportunity to make himself 



478 Sunshine and Shadow 

acquainted with the situation. He had a soldier's eye, 
and a spirit free from jealousy. He saw at a glance 
how matters stood. General Grant had been tele- 
graphed to, and he knew what had been done, and for 
what purpose the adjutant general was at his post. 
On his return, the commanding general frankly said to 
the adjutant general, " I know what you are here for. 
I don't want to see 3^our orders till to-morrow. Give 
me twenty-four hours, and I will give you Vicksburg." 
Said the adjutant general, " You are entitled to it. I 
see the difficulties you have had to contend with. You 
are on the eve of triumph. To carry out my orders will 
be to throw the cause back six months. I will leave 
you for twenty-four hours. If I am cashiered for diso- 
bedience to orders, I will accept it for the good of the 
country." At noon the next day the wires quivered 
in all directions with the thrilling news that Yicksburg 
had fallen. The adjutant general had now his peace 
to make with the President. He had disobeyed his 
superiors. His orders were peremptory and impera- 
tive. He was to remove General Grant, and do it at 
once. But he had not only not removed General 
Grant, but left him in conmiand. The order for his 
removal was reposing quietly in his pocket. He found 
Mr. Lincoln in high glee over the brightening prospects 
of the national cause. He laughed at the fears of the 
officer, and said to him, " You would have deserved to 
be shot if you had obeyed your orders." 



In Neav York. 479 

A father's opinion of nis son. 

In company with General Grant at the Astor Ilonse 
was an officer of the army, who met his father at Cin- 
cinnati just after the disasters at Shiloh, which seemed 
to cloud the military glory of the rising general. The 
disappointment w^as universal; it was feared that Grant's 
name would be added to the long roll of generals who 
had failed. A large company was present when the 
old man was introduced. He was quite advanced, and 
looked like a plain firmer; quite shrewd he was, and 
he had unbounded confidence in his son. After some 
complimentary things had been sjiid, the old gentle- 
man spoke. " Some people think th<at my son has not 
done very well at Shiloh. But they don't know Lysus. 
He is a great man, and the people will find him out. 
He will come out right, gentlemen. I know him better 
than any one else. I should not be at all surprised if 
Lysus should yet command the armies of the United 
States." 

THE OVATION. 

One of the most popular ovations ever tendered to a 
man was given to General Grant in this city. A self- 
constituted body, known afterwards as the Sparrow- 
grass Committee, attempted to make use of General 
Grant for political purposes. They went to Washing- 
ton to secure the attendance of the general at the 
nice little private parties they had got up, by which 
they hoped to secure the guest to themselves. But 
telegraph can travel faster than steamer, and the plans 
of the self-constituted committee were defeated. The 
general came at the early hour of six in the morning. 



480 Sunshine and Shadow 

He got out of the rear car, outflanked the committee, 
took a private carriage, and drove to the Astor House. 
The levee was held at ten o'clock in the morning. In 
a plain citizen's dress, with an iron-gray frock coat, light 
vest and pants, he took his station to welcome the peo- 
ple. He was sunburnt, and bronzed with exposure and 
toil. The rush was tremendous, the living tide filling 
all the stairs, vestibules, and windows. All around the 
Astor House was a surging crowd, and to gratify them 
he stepped upon the portico, while cheer upon cheer rent 
the skies. This was the first popular ovation that the 
general received. The people placed his name by the 
side of Wellington, NajDoleon, and other great captains 
of the world. In appearance he was not prepossessing; 
his face was unsympathizing, his eyes contracted, with 
a sleepy sort of look about them. He was very stocky, 
and appeared short, though he was taller than the 
average of the crowd. Throughout the whole ovation 
he was unassuming and unaffected.. He was introduced 
to thousands at Cooper Institute. He bowed his ac- 
knowledgments. The first citizens gave him an elegant 
dinner. In answer to the call for a speech, he simply 
said, '• I thank you for your kindness." Through all the 
war he has been distinguished for his affection for his 
soldiers. After his long reception of several hours he 
retired to his couch for a little rest. He had scarcely 
lain down before he was told that a Massachusetts regi- 
ment, on its way home from the war, was in front of the 
Astor, waiting to pay him a salute. He would not 
have left his couch for all the kings of Europe. But he 
instantly rose, and went to the balcony of the hotel. 
There he saw his boys who had been with him on the 



In New York. 481 

Potomac, drawn up in line, with their tattered hanners, 
immediately in front of the main entrance. Tliey were 
snrrounded by full ten thousand people. On his ap- 
pearance the boys were nearly frantic. They shouted, 
they yelled, threw their caps up in the air, and some 
of them attempted to get at him by climbing up the 
columns of the Astor House porch. The sight drew 
tears to the general's eyes as the column moved on- 
ward nearer home. 

MRS. GRANT. 

This lady accompanied the general, and participated 
in the ovation. She won all hearts by her modest 
deportment. She is very domestic in her habits, and 
finds little pleasure in being gazed at by the crowd. 
She held a levee for the ladies who called on her. 
Some one asked her how lono; she was to remain in 
New York. She said, " We shall leave to-morrow morn- 
ing for Washington." The inquirer suggested that per- 
haps they would be induced to stay another day. Mrs. 
Grant replied, "No. The general says he shall leave 
to-morrow morning ; he is a very obstinate man ; you 
cannot change him." She spoke with the utmost sim- 
plicity of the change in her social position, and the 
new life to which she was called. She said she was not 
such a wife as Mr. Grant, as she called him, ought to 
have ; " had he only married my sister, she would have 
been suited to our new position." 

GENERAL GRANT IN PRIVATE LIFE. 

Few men are better informed, or have better abihty 
to express themselves, than General Grant, when he 
chooses so to do. His reticence is not the result of 
31 



482 Sunshine and Shadow 

diffidence. A senator called upon him not long since, 
in Washington, and before he had a chance to talk on 
political subjects General Grant introduced his horses, 
and consumed the whole interview in talking about 
them. As he left the War Department, a friend met the 
senator, and said to him, " So you have had an inter- 
view with General Grant. What do you think of him?" 
"He don't know anything but horse," said the senator; 
" he talked about it all the time." I was in the depart- 
ment when General Grant was told of this. He said, 
*' Yes, I did talk horse to him : I understand horse, and 
I think he understands the subject better than politics, 
so I talked about what we both understood." The 
chairman of one of the most important committees in 
the Senate told me that he was riding from New York 
to Washing[:ton in the cars when General Grant was on 
the train. He came and sat down beside the senator, 
opened the subject of the national finances, urged 
retrenchment, and gave his views on the subject as if 
finance had been the study of his lifetime. 

He is very decided in his opinions, and resolute when 
his mind is made up. While at the levee he wrote his 
name on a few cards. He handed his pencil to a friend, 
and said, " I will write no more." " Just one more ! just 
one more ! " was cried out on the riu-ht liand and the left. 
At Governor Fenton's levee. General Grant attended 
as a guest. The people shouted " A speech ! a speech 1" 
and would listen to no one else, not even Governor 
Fenton. The governor urged the general to say a few 
words, as the easiest way to satisfy the crowd. " There 
are not men enough in New York to make me speak 
to-night," was the response at the splendid dinner given 



In New York. 483 

him. He sat in the centre of Congrcf^^smen and dis- 
tinguished persons. He spoke but one word during the 
whole dinner. An engineer spoke of a river that the 
army crossed, and said it was thirteen feet wide. Gen- 
eral Grant lifted his finger, and said " fourteen.' ' Some 
one congratulated him on his relief from the responsi- 
bilities of war. The general said he would rather 
be with his army than at a public dinner. General 
Grant's father visited him at Vicksburg just after its 
surrender. He saw the carcasses of thousands of cattle 
and horses that lay dead on the field. As a manufac- 
turer of leather, he thought what a fine speculation 
was before him ! He went to his son, and asked for an 
order to gather the skins. To a friend the old man 
said, "And what do you think Lysus said ? Why, he 
told me I had better go home and attend to my own 
business, and not be speculating on the battle-field, 
and compromising him with the government." His 
w^ar horse was a small black palfrey, to which he 
seemed fondly attached. The horse seems fit only for 
a lady to ride. He was agile, slender-limbed, and suit- 
able only for a toy for children. " That horse," said the 
general, " is the most, remarkable horse I have ever seen. 
He is an imported blood horse. Jeff Davis brought 
him over from Europe. He came from his plantation. 
I have ridden him in all my campaigns. His endurance 
is amazing. I have taken him out at daylight, and 
ridden him till evening, and found him as fresh as 
when he was saddled. His intelligence is amazing ; he 
knows more than some men. Gold could not buy 
him." 

In speaking of his habits, the general said he was a 



484 Sunshine and Shadow 

great sleeper. To keep liim in good working orler, he 
wanted nine hours of soHd sleep ; he could use fourteen, 
but nine he must have. When in command out west 
he could only sleep seven hours, and he found himself 
breakinsT down. While in New York with General 
Grant, Speaker Colfax related a characteristic anecdote. 
The House of Representatives had invited General 
Grant to visit their chamber, where he was received 
with all honors. He was greatly embarrassed, and his 
position was a painful one. Calls from all parts of the 
House required the general to take the speaker's desk, 
that he might be seen. The speaker took him by the 
arm and led him up to the desk. After standing there 
a few moments. General Grant, in the tone of a school- 
boy put on a platform for punishment, and with a most 
imploring look, said, "Mr. Speaker, may I now go 
down ? " He was so evidently distresse- 1 that his friends 
could not think of detaining him on^ moment longer 
in that prominent position. 



In New York. 435 



LX. 

ORIGIN OF THE NEW YORK RELI- 
GIOUS PRESS. 



BR. MORSE AND HIS SONS. —BOSTON RECORDER. — THE OLDEST RELIGI0C8 
NEWSPAPER. THE FOUNDING OF THE OBSERVER. 

The filling of Hollis Professorship at Cambridge 
divided the Cong-reo-ationalists in Massachusetts into 
Unitarian and Trinitarian. The Unitarians took the 
college and nearly all the Congregational Churches in 
Boston and the snrroundinsi: towns. The Old South 
was saved to the Trinitarians by the casting vote of 
Governor Phillips, the father of Wendell. The ability 
and courage of Dr. Morse, the pastor of the First 
Church in Charlestown, saved that to the Evangelical 
faith. The Unitarians sprang into existence almost in 
a day, and became a great political power in the state. 
All the important offices, such as those of senators, 
representatives in Congress, legislature, and judge, were^ 
held by men professing the liberal faith. It was con- 
sidered a great concession to authority when George 
Briggs, a Baptist, was nominated for Governor. Gov- 
ernor Briggs sent the name of Mr. Hubbard to the 
Council as a Supreme Court judge. It was considered 
doubtful whether the Council would confirm the nomi- 



486 Sunshine and Shadow 

nation, as Mr. Hubbard was a Trinitarian. Daniel 
Webster left Brattle Street Church for St. Paul's, 
Episcopal. His political friends called on him to assure 
him that he was damaging his political prospects in 
that step. He objected to the preaching at Brattle 
Street, and compared it to " throwing shot on shingles." 
Some one asked him if he believed that three were one, 
and one was three. He replied, " Gentlemen, we know 
very little of the mathematics of heaven, and the less 
we talk about them the better." This brief history of 
the situation is necessary to understand what is to 
follow. 

DR. MORSE AND HIS SONS. 

Dr. Morse, of Charlestown, was the champion of 
Orthodoxy, and his pulpit was the citadel of the ancient 
fait.i. He was bold, brave, far-seeing, and was accepted 
on all hands as the Evangelical leader. Many ac- 
counted him a bigot, and believed that he was blunting 
the intellect of his children by training them on the 
Bible, catechism, and the formula of Calvinism. Yet 
the genius of one founded the national journalism of 
the land, and the intellect of the other gave us the 
telegraph. The power of the press was well known to 
Dr. Morse. The newspapers of the day were in the 
hands of the opponents of Orthodoxy. By the side of 
the news found in the journals, were lampoons on the 
religious belief of the Trinitarians, and insults offered 
to their worshijD. A religious newspaper was called for. 
It was contemplated and was intended to print a paper 
that should present foreign and domestic intelligence ; 
but it was also proposed to print some religious news 
with the secular portion of the paper. 



In New York. 487 

boston recorder. 

Proposals were issued for the publication of a paper 
to be called the Boston Kecorder. These proposals 
were sent to all the Trinitarian Churches. It was esti- 
mated that nine hundred and fifty subscribers would 
support the paper. A printer was found in the person 
of Deacon Willis, father of Nathaniel P. Willis. Mr. 
Willis had been conductinsj the Eastern Ar<rus at Port- 
land. He was now in Boston. He agreed to print 
the new paper on condition that he should be paid for 
his services. The entire income of the Recorder was 
pledged to him till he should be fully paid. On these 
conditions he agreed to issue the paper. Sidney Morse, 
son of Kev, Dr. Morse, was selected to take charire of 
the new paper. Mr. Everts, editor of the Panoplist, 
father of William M. Everts of this city, was to be 
editor-in-chief The first number of the Recorder was 
published in January, 1816. Less than five hundred 
subscribers had agreed to take the paper. For four 
weeks fifteen hundred copies were printed. Mr. Willis 
became alarmed, and pointed to the files of unsold 
papers. Pie was not paid for his work, and refused to 
print another number. Dr. Morse offered to be re- 
sponsible for all the expense. A new printer was ob- 
tained. Mr. Everts left the Recorder in the hands of 
his youthful associate. In two months the paper had 
exceeded the paying point. In five months it num- 
bered thirteen hundred subscribers. Mr. Willis wished 
to com-e back, as the pecuniary success of the concern 
was made certain. A proposition was made, and Mr. 
Morse, by an instrument still in existence as proprietor 
of the Recorder, transferred it to Mr. Willis. 



488 Sunshine and Shadow 



THE OLDEST RELIGIOUS NEWSPAPER. 

It has been frequently asserted that the Boston 
Recorder is the oldest religious paper in the world. 
Such is not the fact. The first religious newspaper 
was published by Rev. Elias Smith, of Portsmouth, New 
Hampshire. The first number was issued in 1808, 
under the auspices of the sect called Christians. It has 
been published regularly from that time to the present. 
Complete files of the paper are preserved. I have often 
heard Rev. Elias Smith give an account of the early 
trials and discouragement that attended that paper. It 
was considered almost sacrilegious to issue a religious 
print. The preachers regarded the project with disfa- 
vor. But the editor saw no reason why the church 
should not have an organ, as well as trade and politi- 
cians. Amid poverty and great opposition the religious 
press was launched, and has been a success from that 
hour. 

THE founding OF THE OBSERVER. 

Mr. Morse left the Recorder in the hands of Mr. 
Willis. The concerted action of the enemies of the 
church aroused her friends in all quarters. The bloody 
battles of Europe were ended, and Napoleon banished 
to Helena. On the wings of peace religion was poising 
herself for a great flight. The American Board had 
just been formed. The Bible, tract, and other national 
societies were springing into existence. Far-seeing 
men felt the need of a great central organ, located in 
New York, to be national in all its parts, catholic in 
its spirit, and not sectarian, — a paper which should 
support the great institutions, and represent the spirit 



In New York. 489 

of the age. Young Morse had already turned his eye 
towards this centre. A society had been formed at 
Andover some years before, embracing the noblest 
spirits in the seminary, most of whom afterwards fell 
beneath the banner of the cross on heathen ground. 
The object of this society was to devise plans for 
doing good. Sidney E. Morse, in 1818, read a paper 
at one of these meetings, on the benefits to religion 
of an ably conducted newspaper, to be published in 
New York, whose influence should be on the side of 
the church. He proposed to make the paper a neces- 
sity, being so ably conducted, and with such a Christian 
spirit, that a Christian family could not be without it. 
Such was the bigotrj^ and exclusiveness of the liberal- 
ism of his native state, and such the hatred borne to 
his father, that Mr. Morse knew he had no chance to 
rise in Massachusetts. He removed to New York, and 
in 1823 established the Observer as a first-class news- 
paper, national in its scope and evangelical in its 
spirit. As it was founded, so it is carried on. It has 
always been distinguished for the ability with which it 
has been conducted. It commands the best talent in 
the land. Its correspondence, foreign and domestic, is 
full, fresh, talented, and reliable. No one rises from 
its perusal without an intelligent knowledge of the 
things that pertain to the spirit of the age, and the 
up-building and progress of the kingdom of our Lord. 



490 



Sunshine and Shadow 



LXI. 

THE PECULIARITIES OF NEW YORK 

CHURCHES. 



CLERICAL KEPDTE. FLUCTUATION OF CHURCHES. GRACE CHURCH. WAY- 
SIDE WORSHIP. TREATMENT OF STRANGERS. 



New York is unlike any other city on the face of the 
globe. In her churches she is more peculiar than in 
anything else. She has a style of her own ecclesias- 
tically. On Sunday morning almost all the churches 
are well attended. The Sunday dinner — the only 
meal in the week, perhaps, in which the husband and 
father is at home — prevents afternoon worship. 
The Sunday evening congregations are usually very 
small, except when some stirring theme is to be pre- 
sented, or a sensation preacher promises to entertain 
the crowd. 

CLERICAL REPUTE. 

A local reputation will not serve a man in the city. 
No matter how popular he is at home, or how eloquent 
he may be, it will not avail him unless the New Yorkers 
know him. Men Avho can fill the largest houses in 
other cities preach to empty benches in New York ; 
and no amount of advertising will draw if the party is 



In New York. 491 

a stranger. New York tries a minister more than any 
other cit}'. If he has mettle in him, and patience, he 
will succeed. Men of marked ability and talent get a 
call to New York, and are as completely lost as if 
settled at Sandy Hook. It is a great wonder that any 
one well settled will come to the city. A few large, 
rich congregations are all well enough. The great 
mass of the churches are poor. To build houses and 
maintain public worship cost a great deal. Living is 
high, and ministers are cramped, hedged in, and con- 
fined. Hundreds of families, who, before they moved 
to New York, supported and attended public worship, 
do neitiier after they come. Pew rents are very high, 
and a man on a small salary, with a small income, 
might as well attempt to live on Fifth Avenue as to 
attend a fishionable place of worship. Hosts of persons 
professing to be Christians have no religious home, but 
from year to year drift round from church to church, 
and pick up their spiritual provender where they can 
find it. The population is constantly changing from 
the east side to the west, from the west side to the 
north, from the north to Brooklyn, from Brooklyn to 
the countrv, and from the country back aijain to New 
York. Many persons are exceedingly liberal in their 
contributions to religious objects. The mass care but 
little, and the whole burden foils on a few. The popu- 
lation fluctuates, and the labor of keeping a city charge 
together is very great. Many pastors have left a large, 
warm-hearted, liberal people in the country for a church 
in New York. Their salaries, large as they seemed, 
proved inadequate to a comfortable support. After 
spending what they saved in their rural home, they 



492 Sunshine and Shadow 

retired from the city in disgust. A Connecticut pastor 
moved to this city not long since. He had a com- 
manding church, and was one of the most popular men 
in New England. He was called to what had been 
one of the most fashionable churches. It had begun to 
wane before he came to the city. The influence he 
had in other places did not avail him here. His con- 
gregation steadily decreased, and he soon resigned. 

Fashion has a great deal to do with ministerial suc- 
cess. New York has great business talent, but it is 
less cesthetical, less literary. The standard of intelli- 
gence is much lower than in any of the rural towns. 
Pulpit ability need not be high to satisfy the church- 
goers of New York, but it must be fashionable. If a 
man has a congregation composed of the upper-ten, 
though his pulpit talents be small, and his oratory 
positively bad, he will have a success. If he has not a 
good position, he will struggle in vain against the 
worldliness of the city, and fight hard to keep pov- 
erty from his door. In a few instances the settle- 
ments in New York churches are very long. In most 
cases, however, pastors come and go. In one denomi- 
nation, the members of one association, and that a very 
large one, all changed their pastorates in ten years. 

FLUCTUATION OF CHURCHES. 

At one time all the leading; churches were down 
town. They are now nearly all up town. They are 
so near together that the singing of one church can be 
heard in another. Between Twentieth and Forty- 
eighth Streets, and between Fourth Avenue and Broad- 
way, there are probably more costly churches than can 



In New York. 408 

be found in the same space in any other part of tlie 
world. They have outrun the popuhition, and ne;irly 
all are thinly attended. 

This up-town movement is a very queer thing. The 
old Wall Street Church began it many years ago. The 
society purchased a square in an un paved, muddy, and 
untried locality, giving little promise that it was to be 
the abode of wealth and fashion. A costly church was 
built, which still stands on Fifth Avenue and Twelfth 
Street. The Duane Street Church followed, and built 
a costly edifice on the corner of University Place and 
Tenth Street. Those new churches made a heavy 
drain on the down-town societies, and took the wealthy 
men wdio were driven from their homes down town by 
trade. For a time they became the aristocratic 
churches of the city. The Rivington Street Church 
having been depleted by the up-town movement, took 
a start and erected a fine brown-stone edifice on the 
corner of Fourteenth Street and Second Avenue, then 
a fashionable locality. Broome Street Church caught 
the fashionable fever, secured that most eligible site 
corner of Madison Avenue and Twenty-fourth Street, 
and put up one of the richest and most gaudy edifices 
in New York. The churches which had gone up town, 
and stripped the humbler congregations of men of 
wealth and ladies of fiishion, had a tribute of justice 
meted out to them. Madison Avenue Church became 
the height of fashion, and served the up-town churches 
as they had served their brethren in the lower part of 
the city. The Old Brick Church at the Park followed 
in the wake of sister societies, secured a most fashion- 
able site on Fifth Avenue, and outbuilt all churches 



494 Sunshine and Shadow 

and outtopped all steeples. The work of removal still 
goes on. Feeble down-town societies, which could 
scarcely live, sell their valuable sites for merchandise, 
and are able to build a costly up-town church. Go as 
high as a congregation will, some church will outstrip 
them, and secure the fashionables, who are ever on the 
wing for a new aristocratic place of worship. 

GRACE CHURCH. 

For nearly twenty years Grace Church has resisted 
all the fluctuations of the city. It led in the up-town 
movement. From its location below Trinity Church it 
removed to its present commanding site on the bend of 
Broadway, at the head of Eleventh Street. It has 
always been crowded with the intelligence, wealth, and 
fashion of New York. Its singing has always been one 
of its great features, and has never been surpassed. 
To be married in Grace Church has been regarded as 
the height of earthly felicity. It boasts the most noted 
sexton on the continent. Brown of Grace Church is 
known everywhere. He is a man of immense size. 
His face is very red, and he has the air of a boatswain. 
It is worth a visit to Grace Church to be ushered into 
a pew by Brown. With his coat flying open, with the 
speed of a man who is under a great pressure, and with 
the air of an alderman handing a bowl of soup to a 
charity boy, he shows you into a seat, and impresses 
you with his condescension as he closes the door. He 
is immensely popular with the elite of New York. No 
party, bridal, or burial is considered complete without 
him. He keeps on hand any quantity of dukes, mar- 
quises, counts, and distinguished foreigners, ready to be 



In New York. 405 

served a,t popular parties at a moment's notice. Out- 
side of Grace Church, on Sunday morning, can be seen 
the finest turnouts in the city, — carriages, coupes, 
cabriolets, with coachmen and footmen in livery, — 
which fill the street, making it gay and brilliant for 
blocks around. 

WAYSIDE WORSHIP. 

All sorts of plans are resorted to, to get an audience. 
Ministers preach from the decks of ships and in bar- 
rooms, in halls and in theatres, under tents and in bil- 
liard-rooms, in public parks and in public gardens. To 
reach the masses, a benevolent gentleman hired Cooper 
Institute for one year, paying two thousand dollars for 
its use on Sunday. It was thrown open to the public. 
The movement was a failure, for the people would not 
attend. The Academy of Music has been thrown open, 
with assembly rooms, and opera houses. If they were 
filled, the stated ministrations of the gospel were 
neglected. Small congregations gather to hear men 
and women preach ultraism on the Lord's Day. Long- 
bearded men and strong-minded women officiifte, with- 
out disturbing very much the regular worship of the 
city. Nothing is more curious than the Sunday notices 
which fill the Sunday papers. At one time the regular 
churches scorned to advertise. They left this custom 
to the erratic and sensational, and to men getting up 
new cono-refirations. But relisfious advertising has be- 
come a necessity, and new congregations cannot dispense 
with it. Sunday notices indicate the religious teaching 
of the day. Odd texts and queer themes are put forth 
to attract the floating masses. No subject conies amiss. 
Themes are announced that are suited to a French 



496 Sunshine and Shadow 

Sabbath better than to a Christian one. Others are 
advertised that would conform to a New England Sun- 
day. The Turks, the Chinese, Pagan and Infidel, 
the Catholic, Jews, with all grades of Protestants, keep 
Sunday after their own fashion. Operatic choirs, Scotch 
precentors, and surpliced boys, lead the devotions. 
Scraggly projDhets prophesy to a handful of old "women 
and a few damsels in bloomer costume, about the 
coming doom. Daniel's horns are explained by men 
who jDreach to the few faithful ; and worship adapted 
to every nationality and form of belief can be found 
on the Sabbath. 

TREATMENT OF STRANGERS. 

Much complaint exists that New York church-goers 
are proud, exclusive, and rude to strangers. In most 
New York churches the seats are abundant, and stran- 
gers are welcome. A few aristocratic churches are 
crowded, and some sensational houses are jammed. 
New York is full of strangers. They are here to see the 
sights. They want to enjoy the five thousand dollar 
choir. They want to hear the minister that is paid 
thirteen thousand dollars a year, and earns twenty-five 
thousand .more by speaking and lecturing. Besides 
these strangers, we have in New York a boomful of 
drift wood, who float round popular assemblies, and 
demand the best pews. These come to see, not to wor- 
ship. They gape, and stare, and whisper, and sit bolt up- 
right during prayer. Their boldness, flippant talk, and 
rudeness annoy regular worshippers. They criticise the 
minister, wonder how old he is, and if he is married. 
They criticise the singing, the length of the sermon, 



In New York. 497 

take out their watches, and wish the thing was done. 
Congregations tire of this; they are not honored by 
having such persons occupy their pews; and when 
strangers compLain through the newspapers that they 
have to stand in the vestibule,- and that no one invites 
them to a seat, they can find the reason in the rude 
and ill-mannered behavior of a large class of strangers 
who beset our churches. 

32 



498 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXII. 

MINISTERS' CHILDREN. 

The sons and daughters of the rich men of a quarter 
of a century ago are generally poor. The rich men 
of this day are not the sons of the rich. With few ex- 
ceptions they are sons of porters, bootblacks, sawers 
of wood, and heavers of coal. They have been archi- 
tects of their own fortunes. Young men brought up 
in idleness and luxury, expecting to inherit their 
fathers' wealth, are now porters, draymen, or ticket- 
takers. Daughters reared in affluence, and who never 
expected to want, are undergoing privations among the 
children of toil. Not a few have exchano;ed an eles-ant 
mansion for a room in a tenement-house. The chil- 
dren of ministers are generally the objects of sympathy. 
They occupy that narrow selvage of land between gen- 
tility and want. They are patronized and pitied. Dona- 
tion and sewing parties are got up for them. They 
are exempt from contributions to benevolent objects in 
deference to their poverty.- The remains of the fair 
are sent to the j^'^ii'sonage, with cast-off dresses to be 
turned for the children. The wife of the merchant, 
the lawyer, and doctor will allow the minister's chil- 
dren to play with their own out of deference to the 
cloth J but it is done with an air of patronage that 



In New York. .I'JO 

cuts to the bone. But life iii New York shows that the 
home training, discipHne, and privation of the parson- 
age yield beneficent fruits. AVhatever else our min- 
isters' children may lack, they do not lack culture and 
sound moral training. They are early introduced into 
the best of societj^, and they have an independence that 
is valuable to them in all after life. 

The sons of clergymen in New Y^ork are among the 
most eminent bankers, able and accomplished law^yers, 
merchants of success and forecast. Most insj-enious and 
beneficent inventors beloufj; to this class. The daughters 
dwell in sumptuous palaces. They give tone to society, 
and their husbands are the most honorable and learned 
of men. The children of the wealthy, in the homes 
where these daughters were trained, to whom the 
. minister's children did not dare to lift up their eyes, 
are in subordinate positions. Some of them are in the 
employ of these very children of the parsonage whom 
they patronized in other days. 

There are residing in New York a groat many 
clergymen without parishes. Sickness and various 
other causes have induced clergymen to leave their 
societies and dwell in New Y^ork. They dress well, and 
live in fine establishments. The wonder is how they 
live. The mystery is explained when it is known that 
the son or dauo-hter has a snug corner for the 
parent. Not long since a clergyman was dismissed 
from New Y^ork because he was old. His son, a suc- 
cessful merchant, bought a fine church, fitted it up m 
elegant style, deeded it to his father, and will support 
him while he lives. 

The clergy of America have no reason to blush for 



500 Sunshine and Shadow 

the position they hold, or for that of their children. 
They founded this nation in the cabin of the Mayflower, 
and on the stormy waters of Massachusetts. They laid 
down the great principle, which has made America a 
mighty nation, that majorities must govern. They laid 
the foundation of colleges in their poverty. They 
founded our great libraries by donations of books from 
their scanty store. It was through their influence that 
the school-house and church stood side by side ; that 
all should have the Bible in their own language, and 
learning enough to read it. Washington bears witness, 
in letters still extant, that the clergy were a power on 
the part of the people in the war of the Revolution. 
They were commissaries in the army, officers and 
soldiers. They preached and prayed for the great 
cause, and made their scanty salaries still more scanty, 
that America might take her place among the nations 
of the earth. 



In New York. 50I 



LXIII. 

REV. DR. WILLIAM ADAMS, OF THE 
PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH. 

HIS EARLY CAREER. MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. — MADISON AVENUE CHURCH. 

SECRET OF SUCCESS. — HIS STYLE OF PREACHING. HIS FOSITION. — 

DR. ADAMS AS AN AUTHOR. — A FASHIONABLE UP-TOAVN CHURCH. 

Dr. Adams is one of the marked men of New York. 
He is tlie patriarch of the Presbyterian pulpit. He 
has been in the settled ministry over thirty years, and 
is still in the full vigor of health and success. Ilis 
church is in a fashionable locality. Every sitting in 
the house is rented, and probably no congregation in 
the land embraces so much wealth, so much business 
talent, so much social and political influence, so many 
active and prosperous merchants, so many energetic 
young Christians, — men whose names are known 
abroad as our most eminent bankers, princely mer- 
chants, large-hearted and generous givers. To be the 
pastor of such a people for thirty years, to keep abreast 
with this stirring age, overflowing a church when every- 
thing is evanescent and changing, to stand at his post 
for over a quarter of a century, and, without a question, 
lead the New York pulpit, indicates no common 
ability. 



502 -Sunshine and Shadow 



HIS EARLY CAREER. 

He was born in Colchester, Conn. When an infimt 
he was removed to Anclover, Mass., Iiis father becom- 
ing principal of the celebrated academy of that town. 
John Adams, the father of William, was one of the 
most celebrated teachers of his day. His pupils are 
among our most eminent clergymen and laymen. 
They are scattered over the missionary stations of the 
world ; are among our most eminent Biblical scholars ; 
they are presidents of colleges and professors of theo- 
logical schools, and fill our most popular pulpits. 
Trained under his father, the j)i'otege of Professor 
Stuart, he had eminent advantages for preparing him- 
self for the great work of the ministry, to which he 
early consecrated all his talents. His boyhood was 
passed in the company of Judson, whose labors in 
Burmah are imperishable ; Gordon Hall ; Newell, who 
translated the word of God in Mahratta ; Winslow and 
Spaulding, who did the same work in Tamul ; Thurston 
and Bingham of the Sandwich Islands ; Goodell in 
Armenia ; Temple and King in Greece ; Byington and 
Kingsley among the Choctaws ; Bridgman in China ; 
Schauflfler among the Hebrews in Palestine, and Per- 
kins in Syria. When a boy, the first dollar William 
donated was a gift to the missionary cause. He settled 
in Brighton, near Boston, when the evangelical cause 
was weak, and his ministry was at once attended with 
marked success. He was one of a company of young 
ministers who met once a M^eek in Dr. Beecher's study 
in Boston for improvement; and Dr. Adams is only 
too glad to acknowledge the great benefit he derived 



In New York. 503 

from those interviews with this eloquent man, wlio 
took so kindly to the younger members of the pro- 
fession. 

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 

The climate of New England being too severe for 
the health of Mrs. Adams, Dr. Adams was induced to 
try a winter in New York, for the double purpose of 
getting the benefit of the climate and the skill of an 
eminent physician. Without the thought of remaining 
in New York, Dr. Adams took rooms in Park Place, 
then a fashionable locality, but quite np town. The 
wealthy of New Y^ork lived in that neighborhood. 
From Broadway to Greenwich, and np as far as Cham- 
bers, the solid men of the city had their homes. Grace 
Church was below Trinity. The Old Brick Church 
was almost out of the reach of the down-town popula- 
tion. Trinity was the centre of fasliion. The Old 
North Church was filled with the Dutch aristocracy. 
Potts was in fashionable upper New York, on Duane 
Street. Maccauly preached to his wealthy congrega- 
tion on Murray Street. Edward Everett had dedicated 
the first Unitarian Church on Chambers Street. Mason 
was far in the upper part of the city, on Bleecker 
Street. Dr. Matthews's church, above Bleecker, was in 
the ultra fashionable location of Washington Square. 
A ministry of thirty-three years can mark great changes 
in churches and people. Most of the church edifices 
have passed away ; the ministry have gone — most of 
them to the house appointed for all living. Oi^ the 
early associates of his pastoral life in New York, few 
remain to exchange Christian salutations. 

Before Dr. Adams received a call in New York, he 



504 Sunshine and Shadow 

resigned his connection with his church in Brighton, 
and was dismissed. A call was extended to him from 
the Broome Street Church, which he accepted. He 
was then twenty-seven years of age. The church was 
very much run down ; but his ministry was successful, 
and for eighteen years he remained pastor. He had 
no ambition for an up-town location, and the steps 
taken to build the imposing edifice in which he now 
preaches did not originate with himself The Broome 
Street Church contained an unusual number of earnest 
and successful men. The Pearl Street Church was in a 
feeble condition, and it was proposed to unite that 
with the Broome Street Church, an(J place over the 
■united enterprise the pastor of the Pearl Street con- 
gregation. This plan being satisfactory to all parties, 
and leaving the lower part of the city well supplied, 
Dr. Adams consented, with a portion of his flock, to go 
farther up town. 

MADISON AVENUE CHURCH. 

Trade, like a flood, had driven families from lower 
New York. A loud demand was made for a place of 
worship in the upper part of the city. The little band 
that went out from Broome Street were not wealthy. 
They were gifted, ardent, and devoted. They left all 
their church property with the congregation down 
town. A most desirable location was secured on Madi- 
son Avenue, and on it was reared a church not exceeded 
in elegance, comfort, and capacity by any in the city. 
The edifice is of stone, and the tall steeple is of the 
same material to the vane. It cost one hundred and 
seventy-five thousand dollars, every dollar of which 



In New York. 50 



OU'J 



was paid by volinitary contribution.-, and not a dollar 
of debt remains on the edifice. The mac^nificent ceiling 
would be pronounced gaudy, were it not toned down by 
the black walnut of the pews, pulpit, and organ. The 
new congregation gathered first in the chapel of the 
Union Theological Seminary, but soon removed to Hope 
Chapel, where worship was continued till the dedication 
of the new edifice in December, 1854. From the open- 
ing of this church, thirteen years ago, to the present 
time, it has been literally crowded. Such a congrega- 
tion, regularly filling every seat and pew in the house, 
cannot be found in the city. Strangers are accommo- 
dated with seats on camp stools, double rows of which 
line the aisles. The passages between the pews in the 
galleries are filled at the ordinary services of the Sab- 
bath. The cono;res!:ation is a remarkable one. It em- 
braces a great number of men — young men, men 
eminent in the professions and among the merchants, 
men of all parties and callings. It is a vigorous and 
live people. There is an elasticity in the very atmos- 
phere of the place which all feel. The singing is of 
the first class. The men in the pews are at once rec- 
ognized as our most noted merchants, bankers, and 
millionnaires, with active politicians of all parties. 

SECRET OF SUCCESS. 

This lies on the surface. Dr. Adams is a gentleman 
of taste and refinement. He is eminently social, genial, 
of warm aflections and sympathies, a devoted fnend, 
a laborious pastor, a learned and earnest preacher. In 
his dress, appearance, and manner, in the pulpit and 
out of it, he meets the popular idea of what a clergy- 



50G Sunshine and SiiADory 

man should be. He is prudent, conservative, and 
eminently wise in the management of his pastoral 
duties. He has strong common sense, and is a keen 
observer of passing events. He rides no hobbies, and 
all know that whatever subject he touches will be 
treated with decorum, ability, and eloquence. He 
possesses the gift, not common, of putting himself in 
sympathy with his audience by a sort of electric bond, 
and he holds their closest attention when he addresses 
them. He is a man of extensive reading ; he is familiar 
with every fresh w^ork, and nothing seems to escape 
him. He is perfectly at home in all departments of 
general knowledge. Of the literature of the church — 
its biography, history, geography, hymnology — he is 
master. Coming on to the stage with the men who 
founded the great institutions, such as the Foreign 
Mission, the Bible and Tract Societies, he is flimihar 
with all the thrillinor incidents of men and matters 
which have marked the pathway of the church for 
half a century. His memory is a vast storehouse of 
anecdote, illustration, facts, and graphic occurrences, 
gathered from books, nature, and men. He has trav- 
elled all over the world, and with his eyes open. There 
is nothing startling or extravagant in his performances ; 
he shrinks from display, and from being thought sensa- 
tional. But there is a tender persuasiveness, the elo- 
quence of quiet earnestness, that becomes a messenger 
from God to men, wdiich captivates and leads to the 
cross. 




i 



In New York. 507 



HIS ST-iXE OF PREACHING. 

Dr. Adams comes to his people each Sabbath as fresh 
as the day that he was installed. His sermons are 
scholarly, without pedantry. lie recognizes the power 
of illustration. His metaphors are drawn largely from 
books, and in this lies much of his freshness. Every 
new book or review that is valuable is seized, and 
made tributary to the sermon. He uses selections as 
he would choice diamonds loaned to him. He labels 
them, and puts upon them the owner's name, to enhance 
their value. The names of Shakespeare and Dante, 
Milton and Macaulay, Scott and Thackeray, Butler and 
Bryant, with poets, philosophers, and inventors, are 
familiar to his congregation, and contribute to the 
interest of the discourse. Dr. Adams has never sought 
to be a platform speaker. The old New England cus- 
tom of writing sermons in full, and reading them, he 
has followed throudi all the vears of his pastoral life. 
He prepares with great care and labor, but is not con- 
fmed to his notes in delivery. He dresses with great 
neatness and propriety, holding out what Sydney Smith 
calls the signals of his profession — " black and white." 
He comes in at a given hour from a side door near the 
pulpit, and ascends the desk. He does not make it a 
dressino-.room. He has arraved himself elsewhere. 
There is a vigorous freshness in the congregation that 
greets him. A house in which it is difficult to get 
seats is filled early. Few stragglers come in after the 
pastor has entered the desk. The services conducted 
by him are appropriate, impressive, and interesting. 
His people lie very near his heart, and there is a 



508 Sunshine and Shadow 

tender beauty with which he bears their woes, wants, 
sorrows and joys to God. 

HIS POSITION. 

As a citizen in the home of his adoption no man 
ranks hii^-her. Amono: scholars he is honored as a 
preacher of high hterary and theological attainment. 
Among the churches, where he has so long maintained 
a preeminent rank, where his freedom from sectarian- 
ism and his earnest advocacy of every humane and 
beneficent cause are so well known, and his genial, 
brotherlj^ spirit so highly prized, he is held in universal 
esteem. He has received the highest college honors. 
His denomination has conferred upon him every mark 
of confidence and esteem in its power to bestow. As 
Moderator of the General Assembly at "Washington, it 
was the duty of Dr. Adams to address the President on 
a visit of that body to the Executive Mansion. His 
speech introducing the members, for beauty of thought 
and graceful elegance of manner could not have been 
excelled. 

DR. ADAMS AS AN AUTHOR. 

The published works of Dr. Adams are not numerous. 
He has spent his strength on his sermons, and given to 
his own people the rich, ripe thoughts of his mature 
life. He wove a grateful and beautiful wreath upon 
the grave of his beloved teacher and friend in his 
tribute to the memory of Professor Stuart. His work, 
entitled the " Three Gardens — Eden, Gethsemane, and 
Paradise," typifying apostasy, redemption, and heaven, 
is a graceful exposition of evangelical Christianity. His 
most popular and recent work, entitled " Thanksgiving," 



In New York. ■ 509 

is just from the press. 'A New England man, loving 
the home of his youth, he has drawn some sketches of 
the homely, happy life that he enjoyed around the 
fireside of his mother, with a beauty and pathos seldom 
equalled. Nothing can be more beautiful than these 
two descriptions. 

A FASHIONABLE UP-TOWN CHURCH. 

For thirteen years Dr. Adams has preached to what 
is popularly called a fashionable up-town church. But 
it will be hard to find a more devoted and earnest set 
of workers than go out every Sunday from this sanctu- 
ary to do their Master's will. They touch and sustain 
every form of Christian work among all classes at home 
and abroad. It has been the custom to set off mission 
churches, and leave them to take care of themselves. 
One of the finest chapels in this city, and one of the 
most vigorous missions, has been built and sustained 
by this congregation. The church worshipping in the 
mission is a part of the Madison Avenue Church, con- 
trolled by the same session. Over five thousand dollars 
a year are expended to support this mission. Teachers 
from the first families in the congregation are the most 
devoted instructors in the school. The donations made 
by private individuals in this church to the cause of 
Christ in all portions of the world, to found colleges, 
build churches, and to relieve the destitution in great 
cities, are gigantic. No form of Christian labor in this 
city can be found in which the members of this church 
do not bear an active and leading part. Besides the 
regular support of worship, Dr. Adams's congregation 
has contributed to benevolent causes one hundred 



510 Sunshine and Shadow 

thousand dollars. A wealthy up-town church this is, 
but rich also in good works. It is a reservoir from 
which proceed continually those streams that make 
glad the waste and barren places of the land. Dr. 
Adams has reached the period of sixty years, nearly 
forty of which he has spent in the active duties of the 
Christian ministry. His vigor and energy, his effi- 
ciency as a pastor, seem in no respect to be enfeebled. 
As an accomplished gentleman, a devoted friend and 
pastor, a persuasive and effective preacher, he has no 
rival. The great central idea of his preaching is the 
Cross. The great aim of the pastor is to exalt the 
Savior who died on Calvary for man, and lead sinners 
to trust in the merits of his death. 



In New York. 511 



LXIV. 

JAMES GORDON BENNETT AND THE 
NEW YORK HERALD. 

JiR. Bennett's early life. — embarks for America. — ins new york 

CAREER. CAREER AS A JOURNALIST. NEW YORK HERAI,I). — THE NEW 

HERALD BDILDING. INSIDE VIEW. — THE COUNCIL. MR. BENNETT AT 

HOME. HIS FAMILY". MR. BENNETT AND THE FRENCH MISSION. — 

PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 

MR. Bennett's early life. 

Mr. Bennett was born in the year 1800, at New Mill, 
Keith, in Banffshire, Scotland. He was reared nnder 
the shadow of Gordon Castle. His parents were Roman 
Catholics, and he M'as trained in their religion. Every 
Saturday night the family assembled to hear the Scrip- 
tures read, and to engage in worship according to the 
custom so touchingly described by Burns. An uncle, 
for whom Mr. Bennett was named, was a Presbyterian 
clergyman. James was kept at school till he was fifteen 
years of age. He then entered a Roman Catholic 
Seminary at Aberdeen, his parents intending him for 
the ministry. On the banks of the Dee he pursued his 
studies for three years. He then threw up bis collegiate 
course, and abandoned his ecclesiastical career. He 
pursued the classics with great enthusiasm. Fifty 



512 



Sunshine and Shadow 



years after he recalled his studies of Virgil on the 
banks of the Dee. Burns was his favorite poet. He 
read' with zest the novels of Walter Scott. Bat he was 
charmed with the Memoirs of Franklin, written by him- 
self, and he felt a great longing to visit America, the 
home of Franklin. He early exhibited marked talent, 
with great shrewdness, dashed with manliness. He 
heard Chalmers often, and never failed to acknowledge 
his indebtedness to that great man for the influence he 
exerted over his life. Of his own family he has written, 
"Bishops, priests, deacons, robbers, and all sorts of 
persons, were in my family. They were bright in 
ideas, and saucy enough in all conscience." 



EMBARKS FOR AMERICA. 

It was a sudden impulse that induced Mr. Benn6tt to 
embark for this country. He met a companion in the 
street one day, who informed him that he was going to 
America. Bennett expressed a desire to see the place 
where Franklin was born, and resolved to embark with 
his friend. He sailed on the 6th of April, 1819, and 
landed at Halifax. At Portland he opened a school as 
teacher, but it was not of choice that he taught. He 
soon moved on towards Boston. He was charmed with 
all he saw in the city and vicinity. He hunted up 
every memorial of Franklin that could be found. He 
examined all the relics of the Eevolution, and visited 
the places made memorable in our struggle with Great 
Britain. But he was poor, and well nigh discouraged. 
He walked the Common without money, hungry, and 
without friends. In his darkest hour he found a New 
York shilling, and from that hour his fortunes began to 



In New York. 513 

mend. He obtained a position with "Wells and Lilly, 
in Boston, as proof-reader. Here he displayed his 
ability as a writer, both in poetry and prose. 

HIS NEW YORK CAREER. 

Mr. Bennett came to New York in 1822. He im- 
mediately connected himself with the press, for which 
he had a decided taste. He was not dainty in his 
work. He took anything that came along. He was 
industrious, sober, frugal, of great tact, and displayed 
marked ability. He soon obtained a position on the 
Charleston Courier as translator of Spanish-American 
papers. He prepared other articles for the Courier, 
many of which were in verse. His style was sharp, 
racy, and energetic. On returning to New York he 
proposed to open a permanent commercial school on 
Ann Street, near Nassau, and issued his prospectus. 
The plan was not consummated. But he gave a course 
of lectures on political economy in the North Dutch 
Church. 

CAREER AS A JOURNALIST. 

Mr. Bennett, in 1825, became proprietor of the New 
York Courier by purchase. It was a Sunday paper, 
but was not a success. As a reporter and writer he 
was connected with several journals. In 1826 he 
became associate editor of the National Advocate, a 
Democratic paper. The next year the Advocate es- 
poused the cause of John Quincy Adams, while Mr. 
Bennett was a warm partisan of Jackson. Leaving the 
Advocate, Mr. Bennett became associate editor of the 
Inquirer, conducted by M. M. Noah. He was also a 
member of Tammany Society, and a warm partisan. 

33 



514 Sunshine and Shadow 

During the sessions of Congress, Mr. Bennett was at 
the Capital, writing for his paper ; and while at that 
post a fusion was effected between the Courier and 
Inquirer. He continued in his position as associate 
editor and Washington letter-writer till 1832. Mr. 
Bennett sustained General Jackson in his war on the 
United States Bank. The Courier and Inquirer, under 
Mr. Webb, sustained the Bank. This difference led 
Mr. Bennet, to leave the concern. He wrote much for 
the press, and his peculiarly cutting and slashing style 
made his articles very effective. He studied the New 
York press very closely. He felt that it was not what 
the age demanded, and resolved to establish a paper 
that should express his idea of a metropolitan journal. 
He had no capital, no rich friends to back him, — noth- 
ing but his ability, pluck, and indomitable resolution. 

NEW YORK HERALD. 

On the 6th day of May, 1835, the New York Herald 
•was issued from No. 20 Wall Street. It was a small 
penny sheet. Mr. Bennett was editor, reporter, and 
correspondent. He collected the city news, and wrote 
the money articles. He resolved to make the financial 
feature of his paper a marked one. He owed nothing 
to the Stock Board. If he was poor, he was not in 
debt. He did not dabble in stocks. He had no interest 
in the bulls or bears. He did not care whether stocks 
rose or fell. He could slash into the bankers and stock- 
jobbers as he pleased. He M^orked hard. He rose 
early, was temperate and frugal, and seemed to live 
only for his paper. He was his own compositor and 
errand boy, collected his own news, mailed his papers, 



In New York. 515 

kept his accounts, and thus laid the foundation of that 
great success that has made his name as famihar on the 
Thames and Danube as it is on the Hudson. 

THE NEW HERALD BUILDING. 

Opposite the Astor, on the site of the old Museum, 
stands the marble palace known as the Herald Build- 
ing. It is the most complete newspaper establishment 
in the world. The little, dingy, story-and-a-half brick 
building, standing back from the street up a court, and 
known in London as the " Times Printing Office/' would 
not be used for a third-rate American paper. Before 
the Herald buildings were completed, and while Mr. 
Bennett was making a savage assault on the National 
Banks, he was waited upon by the president of one of 
the banks, who said to him, " Mr. Bennett, we know 
that you are at great expense in erecting this building, 
besides carrying on your immense business. If you 
want any accommodation you can have it at our 
banks." Mr. Bennett replied, " Before I purchased 
the land, or began to build, I had on deposit two 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the Chemical 
Bank. There is not a dollar due on the Herald build- 
ings that I cannot pay. 1 would pay off the mortgage 
to-morrow if the owner would allow me to. AVhen the 
building is open I shall not owe one dollar to any 
man, if I am allowed to pay. I ow^e nothing that I 
cannot discharge in an hour. I have not touched one 
dollar of the money on deposit in the bank, and while 
that remains I need no accommodation." 



516 Sunshine and Shadow 



INSIDE VIEW. 

The Herald building; has two stories below the side- 
walk, in which are located two engines of thirty-five 
horse powder each, ready for action at a moment's 
notice. If one fails, the other will strike off the edi- 
tion. Three huge Hoe's presses throw off twenty- 
six sheets at once. The presses run from twelve at 
night till seven in the morning to print the daily issue. 
The edition varies from three to five hundred thousand. 
The engine and press rooms are kept in perfect order. 
The j)roprietor makes constant visits to every part of 
the establishment, and allows no confusion or untidi- 
ness. The first story is the Herald office, fitted with 
the neatness and system of a bank. Every department 
has a responsible head. On the third floor the paper 
is edited. It has a force of twelve editors, thirty-five 
reporters, and five hundred men in all. The principal 
room is the council room. It faces St. Paul's on Broad- 
way. It is elegantly furnished with black walnut 
furniture. The chairs are carved, and, with the lounge, 
are handsomely covered with maroon leather. A long 
table, around which twelve persons can sit, runs the 
lena;th of the room. A bronze bust of Mr. Bennett 
stands on a pedestal at one end. The walls are adorned 
with portraits of young Bennett, Kobert Burns, and 
favorite characters. Opening from this is a handsome 
library, filled with important books for reference. The 
editorial rooms, and rooms for reporters and writers, 
occupy the entire floor. A small winding stairway 
leads from the entrance on Ann Street to the editorial 
rooms. At the top of the stairs a colored gentleman 



In New York. 517 

demands your business and your card. The visitor is 
ushered into a small reception-room, occupied ahnost 
entirely by an immense round table, fdes of papers, and 
a few chairs. If persons cannot sit they can stand. 
Visitors are seldom allowed in the editorial rooms. 
The parties whom they call to see meet them in the 
reception-room. The composition room is under the 
French roof, large, airy, and complete. Every issue of 
the Herald is electrotyped, and there is a room for that 
purpose in the building. A dummy lowers the form 
down to the press-room. 

THE COUNCIL. 

The Herald is edited. Nearly every other paper in 
the country is conducted by a journalist; that is, the 
editor writes his own leaders. The editor-in-chief of 
the Herald seldom writes an editorial. At twelve 
o'clock each day the editors meet in the council-room. 
If Mr. Bennett is in the city, he presides ; if not, young 
James presides. A list of subjects is presented by Mr. 
Bennett, and these are discussed. If he wants any 
subject written upon, he gives out the heads in his dry, 
terse, grotesque way. If taken down just as he states 
them, they would be very effective, though comical. 
The subjects may be Phillips's last speech, the action 
of Congress, new move of the President, the situation 
abroad, or the last purchase of Mr. Seward. To each 
editor a subject is given, or one man is selected to 
write on a given matter. The editor decides what 
shall be written, dictates the points, orders such an 
article for such a day, and to be written in such a man- 
ner. Everything is decided by the editor before the 



518 Sunshine and Shadow 

council breaks up. Then subjects are called for from 
the editors, and suggestions solicited ; but Mr. Bennett 
decides whether they shall be written upon or not. 
In business, Mr. Bennett is shrewd, sharp, and prudent. 
If he pays a dollar he expects to get a dollar's worth 
for it. He often seems rough and impatient, and he 
is prompt and decided. 

MR. BENNETT AT HOME. 

In his house he is genial, liberal, and kind. He dis- 
penses an elegant hospitality. No English nobleman, 
with an income of fifty thousand pounds, lives in a style 
more generous than he in his city residence on Thirty- 
eighth Street and Fifth Avenue. His favorite residence 
is on Fort Washing-ton. Here he receives his friends 
in a principality of his own. He has a great deal of 
company, and has everything to make guests happy. 
He leaves each- one to enjoy himself as he pleases — a 
thing very rare in America. On entering Mr. Bennett's 
mansion as a guest, the visitor will find every attention 
he can desire and every elegance that can make him 
happy. A French cook, bowling and billiard rooms, 
horses and carriages in the stable, a steamboat to sail 
up and down the Hudson, are at his service. At dinner 
all the guests are expected to be present at a given 
hour. At the other meals each one does as he pleases. 
The guest comes down to breakfast at any hour, and 
orders, as if at a hotel. 

On a lounge or an old sofa the host will be found, 
with his floor strewed with books and papers. He 
usually gees to his office on pleasant days. It is the 
duty of one of the editors to mark with a blue or red 



In New York. 519 

pencil all paragraphs in the papers, personal, financial, 
political, acts of Congress, &c. Those that have an 
interest to the editor-in-chief are sent to Mr. Bennett, 
and his eye catches at a glance the stirring events of 
the day. A telegraph wire connects Mr. Bennett's room 
at Fort Washington with his son's room in New York. 
The bell ringing three times indicates that Mr. Bennett 
has something to say. The father and son talk as if in 
an adjoining room. " Don't put in that article " — 
" Publish that editorial on Congress " — " Come home 
to dinner," — with other matters, are rattled over the 
wires. Mr. Bennett is a great student of history. He 
studies Cromwell and Bonaparte, Biddle and Jackson, 
and delights in the history and scandal of the times. 
His philosophy is of the type that laughs at all public 
things, and he looks at public acts from this standpoint. 
But no man is more genial in his home. His two great 
loves are his son and his paper. He makes few out- 
side calls, and will not attend balls, parties, or soirees, 
except in his own mansion. He is a fast friend ; and 
when he takes one to his bosom he takes him with all 
his faults, and holds fast to him through good report 
and through evil. Those who visit him find all sorts of 
guests — French, Germans, Italians, English, with men 
of all ranks. All who have any claim upon Mr. Ben- 
nett are sure of a welcome. He knows how to dis- 
tinguish between those who come as friends and those 
who come to obtain a boon, or obtrude business upon 
him in his retirement. He is up very early around his 
grounds, but allows his guests to sleep as long as they 
please. He dislikes to read of the death of men who 
were young when he was young. It fills him with 



520 Sunshine and Shadow 

melancholy, that lasts a long time. His life is very 
regular, his constitution is of iron, and he is guilty of 
no excess. He is careful of exposure, drinks no 
stimulating liquors, does not use tobacco, and excite- 
ments do not touch him. There are probably twenty 
years more of wear in him. He is very liberal in his 
way. He supports several widows, by a regular instal- 
ment paid weekly, whose husbands were young when 
Mr. Bennett was young, or were fellow-craftsmen of his 
when he was struggling for a foothold in this city, 

HIS FAMILY. 

Mrs. Bennett is a remarkable lady, possessing great 
force of character. Her lona^ residence abroad, for the 
purpose of educating her son, made her familiar with 
the languages of Europe. She speaks, with the fluency 
of a native, French, German, Italian, and Spanish. 
She has presided at the table around which sat the f" 

Spanish and Italian admirals, the French commander, 
and the German ambass<'¥lor. With each of these 
officials she maintained a conversation in his owni Ian- || 

guage, without hesitation or embarrassment, as if she 
had never spoken any other. The Herald is indebted 
to Mrs. Bennett for the establishment of the foreiorn 
correspondence, which is so marked a feature in that 
print. Her letters from foreign capitals during her 
residence abroad were marked by taste, tact, and talent. 
She is genial and accomplished as a hostess, and gives 
a charm to the elegant home over which she presides. 

Mr. Bennett's daughter, Janette, is quite young, 
cultivated and accomplished. Like her mother, she is 
familiar with all the tongues of the continent, and in 



In New York. 521 

her education enjoys .ill the advantages that wealth 
and liberality can bestow. 

Young Bennett, named after his father, is one of the 
best educated young men in the country. He has 
probably a better practical education than any other. 
He enjoyed great advantages, as he spent the most of 
his younger years abroad, and was trained in every 
accomplishment. He can speak fluently, and also 
write French, German, Italian, and Scotch. On com- 
ing home, his father resolved to fit him to take his 
place in carrying on the Herald establishment. Young 
Bennett set type, and learned all the mysteries of the 
craft as a printer. He studied engineering, and knows 
how to run the huge machines in the basement of the 
building. He can work at the press. He is master of 
the art of electrotyping. He can telegraph with skill 
and accuracy. And the toys of his boyhood were 
miniature steam engines, small telegraph machines, 
with juvenile fonts of type and presses. He has marked 
business and executive abilitj', and devotes more hours 
to his office than any young man in the city. He has 
the entire manag-ement of the immense business of the 
Herald. He presides at the council in the absence of 
his father, and conducts the affairs of the office in the 
same prompt, decided manner. He edits the Telegram, 
and owns the Weekly. He never leaves his office 
during Ijusiness hours, and is always at his post except 
a few weeks in summer, when he follows his favorite 
pastime of yachting. He is not only the business 
manager of the Herald, and has to attend to all the 
calls, but he is the active editor, and manages the 
finances. He goes over the accounts daily, and knows 



522 Sunshine and Shadow 

how the affairs stand, to a dollar, before he leaves the 
office at night. He visits every part of the establish- 
ment during the day, from the press-room to the upper 
room for composition. Young Bennett is tall and slim. 
His face is thin, his eye pleasant, his nose prominent, 
and his smile attractive. He is courteous in conversa- 
tion, and there is a repose about him which indicates 
ability to fill the position he occupies. He is frank, 
manly, and generous. He has many traits of character 
that are ascribed to Prince Alfred, the royal sailor- 
son of Victoria. A warm friendship sprang up be- 
tween the Duke of Edinburgh and young Bennett, 
when the latter was in London. An officer high in 
rank in the British navy told me that after young 
Bennett had tendered his celebrated yacht to the 
Prince, Alfred pleaded earnestly with his sovereign 
mother to allow him to accept the generous gift. 
Advised by her ministers that it would not do, she 
positively forbade the acceptance. Of course Prince 
Alfred would have acknowledged the gift by a princely 
reciprocation. But the history of the Henrietta was so 
romantic, the offer was so generous, the owner had 
shown so much pluck in crossing the Atlantic, and was, 
withal, so genial, so cultivated, and so manly, that the 
heart of the prince was completely won. And this 
testimony I heard confirmed on all sides during my 
stay in London. 

MR. BENNETT AND THE FRENCH MISSION. 

The French mission was offered to Mr. Bennett by 
the President, without his solicitation. He per- 
emptorily declined it, on the ground that he would 



In New York. 523 

not be bothered with the duties attached to the posi- 
tion. " If I wanted to go to Europe," said Mr. Ben- 
nett, " I would take fifty tliousand dollars, and go at 
'my leisure." Soon after he declined the post, Mr. 
Seward visited New York. A mutual friend stepped 
over to the Herald office and announced the fact to 
Mr. Bennett, and asked him to walk over and see the 
secretary. " I have no business with Mr. Seward," 
replied the editor ; " if he wishes to see me he can call 
and see me." Mr. Bennett regards himself as a repre- 
sentative man, who is to be called upon by all who 
wish to see him. He carries this rule to great lengths. 

PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 

Mr. Bennett is tall, and marked in appearance. Like 
Commodore Vanderbilt, nobody passes him without 
turning to take a second look. His form is genteel, 
and he is as erect as a Mohawk Indian. He dresses in 
good taste, without imitating either a sloven or a snob. 
His hair is white and flowing, giving him a venerable 
look. The lines of his face are hard, and indicate 
talent and determination. In an omnibus or car he 
would command general attention. He could easily 
be mistaken for a clergyman, a professor in a college, 
or for one of the solid merchants of the city. He can 
command the best talent in the world for his paper. 
He pays liberally for fresh news of which he has the 
exclusive nse. If a pilot runs a hazard, or an engineer 
puts extra speed on to his locomotive, they know that 
they will be well paid at the Herald office, for its 
editor does not higgle about the price. When news 
of the loss of the Collins steamer was brought to the 



524 Sunshine and Shadow 

city, late on a Saturday night, the messenger came 
direct to the Herald office. The price demanded 
was paid, but the messenger was feasted and confined 
in the building until the city was flooded with extras 
Sunday morning. The attaches of the Herald are 
found in every part of the civilized world. They 
take their way where heroes feared to tread. If in 
anything they are outdone, outrun, outwritten, if 
earlier or fresher news is allowed to appear in any 
other journal, a sharp, pungent letter is penned, either 
discharging the writer or ordering him home. During 
the war, the Herald establishment at Washington was 
a curiosity. The place was as busy as the War De- 
partment. Foaming horses came in from all quarters, 
ridden by bespattered letter-writers. Saddled horses 
were tied in front of the door like the headquarters 
of a general. The wires were controlled to convey 
the latest news from every section up to the last mo- 
ment of the paper going to press. Mr. Bennett is a 
fine illustration of what our country can do for a 
penniless boy, and what a penniless boy can do for 
himself, if he has talent, pluck, character, and industry. 
In the conflict Of interest, and in the heat of rivalry, it 
is difficult to estimate a man rightly. In coming 
times Mr. Bennett will take his place in that galaxy of 
noble names who have achieved their own position, 
been architects of their own fortunes, and left an 
enduring mark upon the age in which they lived. 



In New York. 525 



LXV. 

DANIEL DREW. 

EARLY LIFE. — MR. DREW ON THE HUDSON. — MR. DREW AND THE HUDSON 
RIVER RAILROAD. — MR. DREW AT THE STOCK BOARD. — PERSONAL AND 
DOMESTIC. 

This remarkable man was born in Carmel, Putnam 
County, New York. He is seventy years of age. He 
is one of the most astute, shrewd, and successful capi- 
talists in the city. In person he is tall and slender, his 
hair is black, his complexion very dark. He is tough 
and agile, and would pass easily for forty-five. He is 
reputed to be worth twenty millions. For several 
years he has seldom made less than half a million a 
year. His gifts are very large. He seldom gives away 
less than one hundred thousand dollars a year in pri- 
vate charities, besides the large gifts which mark his 
munificence. He selects his own charities, and vagrant 
solicitors have not a very high opinion of his liberality. 
At a meeting of the trustees of his church, not long 
since, the question came up about finishing a mission 
chapel. One of the trustees said, " We expect a gener- 
ous sum from brother Drew." Turning to him he said, 
'• Brother Drew, I put it to your conscience. Don't 
you see your way clear to give us ten thousand dol- 



526 Sunshine and Shadow 

lars ? " To which Mr. Drew rephed, " No, I do not ; " 
which ended the matter. Mr. Drew is a devout mem- 
ber of the Methodist Church. He attends promptly 
and punctually to all the duties belonging to his pro- 
fession. He is a member of a class, and visits the class- 
meetings regularly. He is present at the devotional 
meetings of the church, and speaks and prays witli 
great acceptance. As a Christian man he is humble, 
cheerful, and of good report. He is very reticent on 
ordinary occasions, but genial and intelligent w4ien one 
-wins or enjoys his confidence. He has two children, a 
son and daughter. The son is well provided for on a 
farm. The daughter, the wife of a Baptist clergyman, 
is an heiress in her own right. 

EARLY LIFE. 

He passed his early years on a farm. In a small 
school-house he obtained the rudiments of his educa- 
tion. His father died when Daniel w^as fifteen years 
of ao;e. He then came to New York to seek his fortune 
during our war with England. From a North River 
sloop he landed on the spot where Washington Market 
now stands. Resolved to do something, and finding 
nothing better to do, he hired himself out as a substi- 
tute in the place of another, and became a soldier. 
Next we find him on the saddle, driving cattle to mar- 
ket from his rural home. It took two weeks then to 
make the trip. While engaged in this business a storm 
came on. He found shelter in a gig that stood under 
a tree. A bolt of lightning stunned him and his com- 
panion, killed the horse, and gave them a narrow 
escape. Careful, persistent, indomitable, with good 



In New York. 527 

habits, with a shrewdness of no ordinary kind, with a 
zeal and energy glowing like a volcano beneath a quiet 
exterior, he early laid the foundation of a fortune. 

MR. DREW IN NEW YORK. 

In 1829 Mr. Drew removed to this city. He estab- 
lished his headquarters at Bull's Head in the Bowery, 
and made it the Drovers' Exchange. New York was 
too limited for his business capacity. He stretched the 
trade into Pennsylvania, and tlien into the far West. 
Droves of over two thousand head of cattle crossed the 
Alleghanies under his direction. In 1834 he began his 
steamboat enterprise. Vanderbilt, then coming on to 
the stage, was running opposition everywhere. Some- 
thing had to give way ; and Mr. Drew, watching his 
opportunity, bought the Cinderella for a trifle. 

MR. DREW ON THE HUDSON. 

In 1838 the Hudson River Line, with fine boats, and 
at three dollars to Albany, monopolized travel. Mr. 
Drew bought the Emerald, and ran her as an opposi- 
tion to the old line, at one dollar fare. A compromise 
was effected, and the old price restored. In 1840 Mr. 
Drew formed a partnership with that steamship king, 
Isaac Newton. The floating palace, Isaac Newton, be- 
came a night boat through the suggestion of Mr. Drew, 
and the People's Line became a success. The New 
World followed, and the history of the line is well 
known. 



528 Sunshine and Shadow 



MR. DREW AND THE HUDSON RIVER RAILROAD. 

The Hudson River Railroad vras opened in 1852. 
Mr. Boorman, the president, told Mr. Drew that on the 
opening of the road to Albany his steamboats would 
go under. Mr. Drew carried passengers for a dollar. 
The fare on the road was three. The president urged 
Mr. Drew to put his fare up to two dollars. " Our 
company makes money enough at one," said Mr. Drew. 
" You can regulate the fare in one way. Buy out the 
People's Line, if," he added, " you have money enough." 
Yanderbilt looked with jealousy on Mr. Drew's advent 
in the steamboat business. "You have no business in 
this trade," said the Commodore. " You don't under- 
stand it, and vou can't succeed." Since 1836 more 
than fifty opposition boats have been placed on the 
Hudson River against the People's Line. Not one of 
them has been a success ; while the unequalled river 
steamers — the Dean Richmond, the St. John's, and 
the Drew — tell the story of Mr. Drew's success. He 
chooses his assistants with great sagacity ; and the 
captains, pilots, clerks, and subordinates seldom leave 
his employ till they are removed by death. Mr. Drew 
insures his own steamboats. It would cost him half 
a million of dollars to have them insured in any reliable 
office. His losses are not ten per cent, on that sum. 
The loss of the Dean Richmond cost Mr. Drew nearly 
three hundred thousand dollars. He paid every shipper 
and passenger all that was claimed. There was not 
one single lawsuit, nor a reference even, in the settle- 
ment of the cases. 



In New York. 529 



MR. DREW AT THE STOCK BOARD. 

In 183G Mr. Drew appeared in "Wall Street. For 
eleven years his firm, including Robinson and Kellej^ 
were very celebrated. Mr. Drew was a rapid, bold, 
and successful operator. His connection with the 
Erie Railroad, guaranteeing the paper of that com- 
pany to the amount of a million and a half of dollars, 
showed the magnitude of his transactions. In 1857, 
as treasurer of the company, his own paper, indorsed 
by Yanderbilt to the amount of a million and a half of 
dollars, saved the Erie from bankruptcy. During that 
year, amid almost universal commercial disaster, Mr. 
Drew's losses were immense ; but he never flinched, 
met his paper promptly, and said that during all the 
crisis he had not lost one hour's sleep. In connection 
with Vanderbilt, he relieved the Harlem road from its 
floating debt of over half a million dollars, and aided in 
placing it in its present prosperous condition. 

PERSONAL AND DOMESTIC. 

His heart is in Carmel, where lies his farm of a thou- 
sand acres, carried on with the same judicious skill 
which marks his operations as a capitalist. Ilis farmers 
have homes of their own, and their interest is identified 
with that of Mr. Drew. Near the rural graveyard, 
where he intends to be interred at the last by the side 
of his ancestors, Mr. Drew, in connection with his 
daughter, has erected one of the most beautiful church- 
es in the land, and consecrated it to the promulga- 
tion of the fiiith ho has long professed. To all the in- 
stitutions of learning in his church, sacred and secular, 

34 



530 Sunshine and Shadow 

he has been a liberal and constant benefactor. The 
elegant marble structure on Fourth Avenue, known as 
St. Paul's Church, is a monument to his liberality. 
Waiving his desire that a theological seminary, bearing 
his name, should be erected in Carmel, the place of his 
birth, he selected the beautiful site in Madison Square, 
central to the whole church, for the establishment of a 
denominational seminary. The manner in which he 
made the great donation is characteristic of the man, 
and we have detailed it elsewhere. Considered from 
any stand-point, Mr. Drew must be regarded as a public 
benefactor. His industry, energy, and talents have 
been honorably employed. In donations seldom 
equalled he has laid a chaplet on the altar of religion, 
a testimonial of its value in youth and its support in 
acre. 



In New York. 531 



LXYI. 

THE NEW YORK BAR — ITS REPRESEN- 
TATIVE MEN. 



GENERAL VIEW. — EMIXENT LAAVVERS. — CHARLES O CONOR. — WILLIAM 'M. 
EVAKTS. — JAMES T. BRADY. — DAVID DUDLEY FIELD. — A. OAKEY HALL. 
— WILLIAM J. A. FULLER. 

GENERAL VIEW. 

There is so little homoGi;eneousness amono; the mem- 
bers of the New York bar, that to attempt the briefest 
sketch even of our leading lawyers would take more 
space than we can give to the subject. We will there- 
fore only say, generally, that there are over three thou- 
sand lawyers in New York city who gain a livelihood 
by their professional labors, with incomes ranging from 
five hundred to fifty thousand dollars each. Of course 
the number who receive the latter amount is exceed- 
ingly limited, by far the larger majority of them justify- 
ing Daniel Webster's criticism, that "lawyers w^ork hard, 
live well, and die poor." The average income of a first- 
class New Y^ork city lawyer, in good practice, ranges 
from ten to fifteen thousand dollars a year. Of these 
three thousand lawyers, perhaps half a dozen or more 
have a national reputation, while the rest arc wholly 



532 Sunshine and Shadow 

unknown as lawyers outside of the city of New York. 
In fact, New York lawyers do not know each other, ex- 
cept as they are brought into personal or professional 
contact. Some dozen or so of the best lawyers are 
more or less known to the whole profession from their 
prominence at the bar, or the accident of the peculiar 
line of practice which they pursue. Of the rest, per- 
haps a hundred are known to each other personally, 
by social relations or otherwise j another hundred by 
their professional or business intercourse ; and the rest 
are as unknown to each other, even by reputation, as 
if, they resided at the antipodes. There is not that 
general esjmt de corps in the profession which is found 
in other places. There are several reasons for this 
apparently anomalous condition of things. In the first 
place, New York is such a maelstrom that whatever 
lawyer comes here — no matter what his previous 
career or legal reputation, or how great his talent — 
soon has his individuality swallowed up in the general 
vortex, and is rarely brought to the surface unless by 
some exceptional circumstances. Then, again, there 
are so many different courts in the city that very good 
lawyers may even have an office in the same building, 
may each have a large practice, and hardly ever meet, 
from the flict that one lawyer brings his cases in the 
Supreme Court, another in the Superior Court, another 
in the Common Pleas, and so on, as the caprice of the 
lawyer or other reason may dictate. Moreover, many 
of our best lawyers content themselves with chamber 
practice, giving counsel, conveyancing, etc., and never 
appear in court. In fact so much time is lost by tmiiing 
in court-rooms, that lawyers absolutely avoid the trial 



In New York. ^33 

of cases as much as possible ; and thousands of cases 
are settled annually from this very cause, that might 
otherwise be litigated to the bitter end. It is a sur- 
prising fact that very few lawyers here practise in the 
Federal Courts. The Circuit Court of the United 
States for the Southern District of New York is almost 
a close corporation, there not being more than a dozen 
lawyers who practise there regularly, and it is a terra 
incognita to the New York bar generally. We do not 
believe there is any lawyer here who can make out a 
complete bill of costs in this court without the assist- 
ance of the clerk. A similar condition of things exists 
wdth regard to the United States District Court, except 
that the number of regular practitioners may be in- 
creased a score or two. In this court, where is con- 
ducted the admiralty and maritime business of this 
great commercial city, it is a singular fact that no law- 
yer has had any nautical experience, — there is no 
man w^hose early training qualifies him to try a nauti- 
cal case with the best results. We know of but one 
man of the New York Bar (Mr. W.J. A. Fuller, referred 
to below as the Rubber Patent Lawyer) who has spent 
years of his life as a sailor ; and he rarely tries this 
class of cases, for which his training and experience 
eminently qualify him ; but wdien he does, he crushes 
his opponent like an egg-shell. We mention this cir- 
cumstance merely to show that the practice of the law 
in this city is full of specialities, and that each lawyer 
adapts himself, not perhaps to that for which he is 
peculiarly qualified, but selects that branch of the pro- 
fession which yields him the largest income. 



534 Sunshine and Shadow 



EMINENT LAWYERS. 

We will have to content ourselves with a pen- 
and-ink sketch of a few only of its representative 
men. 

CHARLES O'CONOR. 

First and foremost in the profession — a rank con- 
ceded to him by the universal suffrage of the bar and 
of the community — stands Charles O'Conor, who wears 
his laurels with a grace and gentleness that command 
mibounded respect and confidence. The Forrest di- 
vorce trial first brought Mr. O'Conor into national 
prominence, and made known to the whole countrj^, 
wdiat was then only known to the bench and the 'bar 
of this city, that he who could in such a forensic grapple 
utterly overthrow such an adversary as John Van 
Buren, must be a lawyer of the very highest talents 
and attainments. Mr. O'Conor's peculiar characteris- 
tic is great common sense, which enables him to apply 
his prodigious legal learning in so clear a manner as to 
make his points equally apparent to the unlettered 
juryman and to the profound jurist. He has no clap- 
trap, no straining for dramatic effects. His quiet, 
almost cold manner, his inexorable logic, his piercing, 
and at times almost stridulous voice, his sharp, glit- 
tering eye, that holds a witness or an opponent with a 
charm equal to the fascination of Coleridge's Ancient 
Mariner, all bespeak a man of no common mould. His 
industry and application are wonderful, almost beyond 
belief He is always calm and collected, never losing 
his temper or thrown from his balance. He relies on 
the strong points of his case, and never lumbers it with 



In Neav York. 535 

useless rubbish or foreign or iminateriiil issues. He 
holds the ear of corn up before you, strips ofl' the husks, 
always from the top, and never beginning at tlie bot- 
tom, until he reveals the core, and this he holds before 
the judge and jury with a plain, straightforward direct- 
ness that makes his hearer oblivious of the husks, re- 
membering only the ear — the strong point upon whicli 
he relies to carry his case. He has been successful be- 
yond measure, although he has always been careless 
and capricious in the matter of fees, being governed by 
circumstances of the case and of the party, and by his 
own whims, and not guided by any fixed rule. For 
many years past he could make his professional income 
just what he pleased, increasing it to a fabulous amount 
had he been so disposed. He has confined himself very 
closely to his profession, rarely mingling in public ques- 
tions, political controversies, or post-prandial speeches ; 
and yet, in private and social life he is one of the most 
genial men imaginable. He is said to have replied to 
an admirer, who complimented him on his professional 
success as compared with that of John Van Buren, 
" Perhaps had he devoted himself as assiduously to his 
profession as I have done for the past twenty-five years, 
and not given so much of his time to public life and 
private entertainment, the result would have been far 
different." 

Mr. O'Conor is a Democrat in politics, a Catholic in 
religion, but quiet and unobtrusive in both. He has 
argued many cases involving the gravest public ques- 
tions, and it is said that in preparing for the defence of 
Jefferson Davis, he has subordinated all the learning 
and statesmanship extant that bears upon the case, and 



536 Sunshine and Shadow 

that he designed to make this the crowning professional 
effort of his hfe. 

WILLIAM M. EVARTS. 

In this connection we will introduce William M. 
Evarts, perhaps the only man at the New York bar 
who can bo justly called Mr. O'Conor's peer. He, too, 
has argued many most important public cases, and has 
been fittingly selected by the government to prosecute 
Jefferson Davis. Each of these lawyers feels and 
knows that in the other he has an opponent who will 
call forth all his skill and power, and doubtless ex- 
periences, in anticipation of this conflict, — 

" That stern joy which warriors feel 
In foemen worthy of their steeL" 

Should this trial ever take place, it will have something 
more than the historic interest involved in its momen- 
tous issues, in the shaqo and fierce play of steel between 
these opposing champions. It wdll be artistic cutting 
and thrusting with Milan blades, no 'Coarse work with 
butchers' cleavers. Mr. Evarts is a (/reat Common Law 
lawyer. Gifted with extraordinary natural talent, he 
has labored with untiring zeal and industrj^, until he 
has accumulated an amount of lesfal learninei:, even to 
attempt the acquisition of which would appall a man 
of less ability and perseverance. Born and reared in 
New England, he early acquired habits of industry and 
self-reliance that have made him not only a great 
lawyer but a great man. He is one of the clearest and 
deepest thinkers on public affairs in the country, and 
has one of the most original minds. In the trying 
times of our great civil conflict, when new Alabamas 



In New York. 537 

were launched and fitting out in England to destroy 
our commerce, this man, of slender frame but giant 
mind, was sent by the government to England to pre- 
vent this flagitious national wrong. By the sheer force 
of his superior intellect and knowledge of international 
law he accomplished more than whole navies — he 
stopped this outrage. After reasoning the matter with 
the best publicists of the English cabinet, he had such 
assurances from them that he wrote to Mr. Seward, in 
efiect, that he need have no further apprehension, for 
these piratical craft would not be permitted to go to 
sea — and they did not sail. This was ih the darkest 
hours of the strife, when, perhaps, another Alabama or 
two would have been " the last pound that broke the 
camel's back." For this signal service he deserves the 
lasting gratitude of the nation. Mr. Evarts presents the 
singular anomaly of a man eminently fitted by nature, 
training, and habits to hold a place in the councils of the 
nation, and yet who finds the post of honor in private 
life. His voice would be potential in the Senate, and 
yet the great State of New York is often, practically, 
represented there by empty chairs. In England the 
state would be sure to have the services of such a man 
in some public position at any cost Mr. Evarts has a 
clear, ringing voice, of great penetration and power, a 
pleasing delivery, that often rises to earnestness and 
eloquence, and a comprehensive grasp of the question 
or case under consideration that generally carries con- 
viction to the reason and judgment of the auditor. 
His manner is somewhat peculiar at times. He has a 
large blue eye, which often seems to look, not at out- 
ward objects, but which is introspective, as if the 



538 Sunshine and Shadow 

speaker were seeking the tlioiiglit in the depths of his 
own mind, and was obUvious of everything around him. 
As a pleasant orator, an after-dinner speaker, full of 
playful wit, and quiet, dry humor, he stands almost with- 
out a rival, in or out of the profession. Mr. Evarts has, 
perhaps, the best clientage in New York, and represents 
the " heavy respectability" of the best classes and highest 
toned merchants, bankers, and insurance offices in and 
about Wall and South Streets. He is among the safest 
of counsellors and the best of lawyers. 

JAMES T. BRADY. 

James T. Brady is the only lawyer of the New York 
bar who has positive genius. O'Conor, Evarts, and 
others have the highest order of talent, but they stop 
just short of genius. High as Mr. Brady stands in the 
profession as an advocate, a counsellor, and a lawyer of 
the largest and widest capacity in every department, 
he illustrates eminently the fact that heavenly genius 
must be wedded to earth-born industry to insure per- 
fect and complete success in any walk in life. Not 
that Mr. Brady is without great legal attainments. On 
the contrary few men surpass him even in this direction. 
But his lack of steady application is well known, and 
its effects often injuriously felt by himself, at least, 
though not perhaps perceived by others. Had he the 
industry, the close and constant study of Mr. O'Conor, 
for example, he would be a very Titan. His versatility 
of talent is most remarkable. Whether arguing an 
abstruse and intricate question of law to a court, or 
indulging in the pleasing flights of fancy, or thrilling 
bursts of eloquence to a jury, he is equally at home. 



IxN New York. 539 

equally ready, facile, forcible, and convincing. He is a 
most felicitous speaker at the bar, in the forum, on the 
platform as a lecturer, on the stump in a political can- 
vass, at a public dinner, literary festival, or private 
entertainment, and at a social gathering. In private 
life he is a man " of infinite jest, of most excellent 
flmcy." lie has an ardent temperament, a highly po- 
etic nature, and the most exquisite imagination. With 
all his genius he is as simple, unostentatious, as a child, 
and his affability to the younger members of the pro- 
fession is worthy of imitation. He is always ready to 
grapple with the most difficult case, and never loses his 
self-command or self-possession, either at the bar or 
elsewhere. No draft can be made on him for services 
of any kind which is not readily honored at sight. He 
is by far the finest rhetorician at the bar, with a wealth 
of diction, a gorgeousness of imagery, a felicity of 
^ classic allusion, and a richness of ornate, apt, and 
refined illustration, that are without parallel. He tries 
many very desperate cases, so desperate in fact that no 
other lawyer will touch them, and often wins them by 
his fertility of resource, and the assiduous devotion to 
the interests of his clients. Mr. Brady may be properly 
styled the most genial member of the bar ; always 
courteous, polite, polished, considerate, especially to 
his inferiors, he is the Chevalier Bayard of the ^^I'ofes- 
sion — always sans 2^eur et sans rcjiroche. 

DAVID DUDLEY FIELD. 

David Dudley Field will always have a niche in the 
temple of legal fame, as the author of the New 
York Code of Procedure, and is eminently worthy of 



540 Sunshine and Shadow ^ 

honorable mention as a lawyer of sterling common 
sense and untiring energy, who holds his position by 
the sheer force of an unbending will. The excellent 
suggestions of that quaint writer on the crudities and 
absurdities of the law, good old Jeremy Bentham, were 
first put into legal practice by Mr. Field when he made 
the New York Code, which mowed down, as with a 
McCormick's reaper, the rank and luxuriant harvest of 
technical fictions and incons-ruous absurdities that for 
centuries had overgrown and covered up the simple 
rules of reason and justice that it is the object of all 
laws to subserve and enforce. Mr. Field, for this, will 
be remembered, when the ablest lawyers of his time 
will be forgotten in the dust of ages ; albeit, some of 
them even now affect to regard his system of common- 
sense practice as a bold innovation, which lays an 
iconoclastic hand upon the idol of their false prejudices 
and traditional legal education. Mr. Field, in his code,. 
never forgets that the law addresses itself to the plain 
sense of plain men, and he proceeds by no indirection 
to his point. That is a striking anecdote related of the 
Russian Emperor, who directed his engineers to lay out 
a railroad between St. Petersburg and Moscow. When 
the plans were submitted to the Czar's inspection, he 
asked the meaning of the crooked angles and zigzag 
lines that marked the devious route. " To accom- 
modate the intervening towns and villages," was the 
reply. The Emperor drew his pen across the map, 
turned it upon its face, and marked upon the back two 
dots representing .the two cities. He then made a 
straight line between the points, and said, " Build me 
that road." 



In New York. 541 

The illustration is apt for other matters than the 
survey of railroads, and especially does it apply to Mr. 
Field's code. He treats the ^vhole subject of the law 
in a common-sense manner, utterly ignoring those end- 
less involutions, redundancies of expression, and the 
profuseness of verbiage, that usually bury the sense in 
such a foo; of words that if a fo<y-bell were vumr in the 
middle of one of these legal sentences it could not be 
heard at either end of the paragraph. 

Mr. Field is emphatically an earnest man ; and, Yiko 
all such men, who spend no time in trifles, has neither 
courted nor found popularity. His manner is cold, 
almost forbidding, very like that of an English barrister; 
and vet the few who break throui^h this outer crust, 
.which exerts a repelling influence upon the manj-, fuid 
him pleasant and companionable in private life. He 
has never succeeded in obtaining public station, al- 
though eminently fitted for it by great executive 
ability. Were he personally more popular among his 
associates, and j^i'ofessional and political confreres, he 
would lonu: afjfo have held hioli rank in iniblic affairs. 

CD O O 1 

Mr, Field has a fine presence, a tall, connnanding 
figure, a thoroughly English manner, and a clear voice, 
with unusual distinctness of enunciation. He has not 
the fervor of the impassioned orator, but his arguments 
are always clear, occasionally eloquent, and generally 
convincing. He pays the closest attention to the in- 
terests of his clients, and always prepares his cases 
with industrious zeal. He does not allow his attention, 
during the progress of a trial, to flag or waver for an 
instant, but is always watchful and devoted to the 
matter before him. Like all successful lawyers, he is 



542 Sunshine and Shadow 

a great worker, and pays the inevitable price of sleep- 
less nights and laborious days, illustrating the poet's 
lines, — 

" He who would climb Fame's dizzy steep 
Must watch and toil while others sleep." 

Take him for all in all, he is a man whose place at 
the bar will not readily be filled when he shall have 
passed away. 

A. OAKEY HALL. 

A. Oakey Hall, who has been four times elected dis- 
trict attorney of New York city, is another representa- 
tive man, who largely fills the public eye as a successful 
lawyer. lie has many qualities peculiar to himself. 
He was fiimous as an editor and Utterateur before he was 
celebrated as a lawj'er ; and even now, in addition to 
his onerous and multifarious official duties, he finds 
time to edit a city paper (the New York Leader), and 
occasionally to write a story, a book, a play, and even 
to woo the muses w^itli success. " Hans Yorkel," his 
newspaper nom de illume in by-gone years as the New 
York correspondent of the New Orleans Commercial 
Bulletin, made a reputation that almost any writer 
might envy. His sparkling, brilliant, piquant letters, 
equally light and profound, ranging at will " from grave 
to gay, from lively to severe," were, by their own 
buoyancy, borne far and wide on the current of the 
newspaper press. 

Mr. Hall is the only man at the New York bar who 
makes politics a business, and succeeds at it. He has 
been a AVhig, a Republican, and a Democrat ; and, in 
spite of this tergiversation in politics, he has always 



In New York. 543 

wielded a large influence with the party to which he 
was attached, and retained its confidence while he 
acted with it. He has been the counsel to the Metro- 
politan Police Department and to the sheriff of New 
York, through all administrations, even when his politi- 
cal opponents were in power and held the offices. 
This speaks as highly for his ability as a lawyer as for 
liis adroitness as a politician. He is always retained, 
and bears the burden of the fight in all important cases 
growing out of the quarrels of leading actors and au- 
thors, with whom he is on terms of the closest intimacy, 
and by whom he is regarded with the greatest favor 
and admiration. 

How, in the midst of all these labors, Mr. Hall finds 
time to discharge the duties of district attorney is a 
marvel even to his best friends, who know his ability 
and industrj^. True, he has able and hardworking 
jiartners (Mr. Yanderpoel is, without exception, the 
hardest v/orking lawyer in New York) ; but even with 
their aid, the amount of labor performed" by him is 
prodigious. One secret of his successful accomplish- 
ment of so much work is, that he drives his work, and' 
does not permit his work to drive him. Mr. Hall is a 
fiicile and forcible writer, a pleasing and impressive 
speaker, and a thorough lawyer. He is a very popular 
public orator, and keeps the audience in a roar by his 
clever punning and repartee, while he holds them by 
the force and loc»;ic of his aro-ument. In crhninal 
practice he has few if any rivals ; certainly no superior. 
His impassioned eloquence is very effective with a 
jury; and his clear, felicitous, oftentimes poetic and 
always scholarly arguments, ever command the interest 



544 Sunshine and Shadow 

of auditors, and the respect and attention of the court. 
His "points" are brief, and his "briefs" are pointed. 
He is one of the leading managers in municipal, state, 
and national politics, and makes and carries more 
"points" than any other man. In private life Mr. 
Hall is a perfect gentleman, always courteous, refined, 
entertaining, and instructive, and considerate for the 
feelings of others, although when closely pressed by an 
opponent he can strike back as hard as any one. Mr. 
Hall is a great humorist, and says more clever things 
and makes better jokes than any member of the bar. 
He never spoils a joke for the sake of a friend, and 
does not even spare himself when he can say a good 
thing to " point a moral or adorn a tale." A notable 
example of his making a joke at his own expense was 
when some one congratulated him on the very heavy 
majority by Avhich he was reelected district attorney, 
and he replied that he " had more tried friends than 
any man in New York." Mr. Hall is only forty-one 
years of age, and claims that he has only begun life, 
and laughs at the kindly-intentioned idea that as yet 
he has accomplished anything worthy of private note 
or j^ublic mention. 

WILLIAM J. A. FULLER. 

William J. A. Fuller, best known among the pro- 
fession as the Rubber Patent Lawyer, is another repre- 
sentative man, of whom there are but few at the New 
York bar. His success, which has been great, is owing 
measurably to his business ability, practical common 
sense, close attention to business, and wonderful knowl- 
edge of human nature. He has an iron will, indomi- 



In New York. 545 

table energ}^, extraordinary positiveness of character, 
intense application, and none of the vis ineriice so com- 
mon to lawyers. He is very self reliant. Ita lex scripta 
est is not the " be all and end all " of his investitjations : 
and his original habits of thought have grafted many 
new points of practice, and made many new precedents, 
by applying old principles to new cases. lie believes 
that law, like everything else, is progressive, and is 
not disturbed by the mere dicta of judges. He is 
unusually fertile in expedients, and his rare judgment 
and knowled<2:e of men enable him to settle most cases 
that are brought to him without protracted litigation ; 
and yet he is as tenacious as a bull-dog. He is one of 
the most amiable or most inflexible of lawyers, as the 
circumstances of the case require, treating his oppo- 
nents just as they treat him. While he is alwaj'S 
courteous to his brethren of the profession, he never 
grants them any favors that will, in the least degree, 
prejudice the interests of his clients — in which practice 
he stands almost alone. 

Like Mr. Hall, he achieved literary distinction as an 
editor and ma2;azine writer before he turned his atten- 
tion to the law. His life has been checkered and 
eventful — more so than foils to the lot of ordinary 
men. He has travelled in every quarter of the world, 
and is familiar with most civilized and savage peoples. 
He was, in early life, a sailor for many years, in which 
capacity he circumnavigated the globe, acquiring 
thereby an experience that makes him the superior of 
every lawyer at the bar in the trial of nautical cases. 
Mr. Fuller first brought himself into prominence as 
counsel for Horace H. Day, in the great Goodyear 

35 



546 SuJSiSHINE AND ShADOW 

rubber controversy ; and has, for many years, devoted 
his talents and energies, and most of his time, to sus- 
taining the Goodyear rubber patents and prosecuting 
infringers. He brings to bear upon this business 
not only his legal ability, but his rare talent for 
managing men, and has been uniformly and com- 
pletely successful in crushing out piracies upon these 
patents, in whatever direction he has moved against 
them. 

Perhaps in nothing has Mr. Fuller shown his knowl- 
edge of men better than in his selection for a partner 
of Hon. Leon Abbett, one of the very best general 
lawyers in the city, who was for some years the Demo- 
cr-atic leader of the New Jersey legislature, and is 
now the Thurlow Weed of that Camden-and-Amboy-ed 
state. 

Mr. Fuller is a fluent, forcible writer, and a most 
earnest and efifective public speaker. He made a 
great mark in the Fremont campaign, on the stump 
and with his pen ; but his absorbing professional 
labors have driven him wholly from the field of poli- 
tics, althouarh at the breakino; out of the rebellion he 
did gallant work for the Union cause. 

His leading qualities are indomitable energy, an im- 
passioned earnestness that carries conviction. with it, 
great industry, an iron will which bends everything and 
everybody to it, integrity, and perfectly square dealing. 
So prominent is this last trait, that the infringers trust 
him implicitly, and often come to see him, under a 
pledge that they shall not be troubled (when he seeks 
information against other infringers), and leave his 
office unmolested, when they know that he holds war- 



^1 



J 



In New York. 547 

rants for their arrest for violation of their injunctions. 
His success is due largely to his keen and thorough 
knowledge of men (for which his checkered and event- 
ful life eminently fits him), great readiness, the power 
of thinking rapidly on his feet, never losing his self- 
control ; and, unlike most New York lawyers, he attends 
to his business — never neglects it. 

Governor Curtin says of him, " What are his peculiar 
excellences as a lawyer 1 — He ivins his cases." 



548 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXVII. 

THE METROPOLITAN FIRE DEPART- 
MENT. 

ITS ORIGIN. — THE NEW FORCE. — THE HORSES. — THE ENGINE HODSES. — AT 
A FIRE. THE GOVERNMENT OF THE DEPARTMENT. 

ITS ORIGIN. 

The act creating a paid fire department was passed 
March, 1865. It disbanded the volunteer companies, 
and created a force under the control of commissioners 
aj)pointed by the governor. The old force was very 
corrupt and unreliable. The engine houses were filled 
with loafers of every description. The noise and con- 
fusion on the streets on occasions of alarm were very 
great. Citizens were annoyed, and the sick and dying 
disturbed, by the yelling of runners who attached them- 
selves to the eno;ines. Racino; and fio-htins: between 
companies were common ; disputes between companies 
hindered operations at fires, and often ended in blows. 
False alarms were frequent, to bring out the machines. 
Thieving was generally practised by hangers-on who got 
within the lines, and runners meddled with the duties 
of firemen. The organization of runners was very 
large, and very formidable, and very j)rofitable. On the 



In New York. 549 

coming in of the new department it was violently 
resisted. The constitutionality of the law was tested 
in the Court of Appeals. When the act was sustained 
by the court, an effort was made by bold, bad men to 
disband the volunteer organization at once, and leave 
the city without protection against fire. In the Metro- 
politan Police Department were many old firemen, and 
they were organized to meet the emergency of the 
occasion. From July to November, 1865, three thou- 
sand eight hundred and ten volunteers were relieved 
from duty as firemen. 

THE NEW FORCE. 

The new department was organized with a chief 
engineer, at a salary of four thousand five hundred dol- 
lars, an assistant engineer, and ten district engineers. 
There are thirty-four steam fire engine companies, each 
composed of a foreman, an assistant foreman, an en- 
gineer of steamer, a driver, a stoker, and seven firemen, 
in all twelve men. There are twelve hook and ladder 
companies. The engines and apparatus are drawn by 
horses. The Metropolitan Fire Department is com- 
posed of five hundred and four men, and one hundred 
and forty-six horses. The steam engines, costing four 
thousand dollars each, are built in Manchester, New 
Hampshire, by the Amoskeag Manufiicturing Company, 
and are the cheapest and best that are built in the 
country. The foreman of each company receives thir- 
teen hundred dollars, the engineer twelve hundred dol- 
lars, the assistant enoineer elev.en hundred dollars, and 
the firemen one thousand dollars each. The depart- 
ment demands the whole time of the men. It cost, in 



550 Sunshine and Shadow 

18G7, eight hundred and ninety-three thousand dollars 
to run this department. 

THE HORSES. 

The horses connected with the fire department are 
among the most remarkable in New York. They are the 
best that' can be found, and are selected with great care 
for the work. One person is employed to make pur- 
chases, and to it he devotes all his time. The docility 
and intelligence of the horses are remarkable. They 
are never unharnessed, but stand in the stable ready 
for a start. They are fed twice a day — at six in the 
mornino; and six at niirht. The movement of the 
the engines is regulated by telegrams from headquar- 
ters. On an alarm of fire, the station that gets the 
notice does not telegraph to other stations, but to the 
headquarters. A gong is attached to every station-house, 
and the ringing of that gong is as well understood by 
the horses as by the men. As soon as it sounds, the 
horses back with a bound, and tear out of their stalls in 
a furious manner, rush to their positions at the engine, |l 
and are harnessed in an instant, without a word being I 
spoken. If the gong does not sound, the word "Back!" | 
produces the same effect. When the alarm sounds, the !| 
men can be seen loitering on benches or lying down. 
They spring for their caps, the horses rush for their 
places, every part of the harness is fastened with a 
snap, and in fifteen seconds from the time the alarm 
sounds, the men are in their places, horses are har- 
nessed, the driver is in his seat, the fire lighted, and the 
steamer on its way to the fire. After ten o'clock at 
night the firemen are allowed to go to bed. A strict 



d\ 



In Neav York. 551 

watch is kept, and but thirty seconds are needed to 
arouse, to harness, and to get under way. The drivers 
are forbidden to go beyond a certain speed. The fore- 
man runs on foot before the engine. Tlie driver may 
keep up with him, but he must not go past him. The 
horses are groomed wdth great care, and are daily exer- 
cised when not used before the steamer. They are not 
allowed to be harnessed or rode under the saddle, but 
must be exercised by walking gently before the engine- 
house. These horses, fiery and spirited, are so trained 
that they will stand all day and all night in the midst 
of the confusion of a fire, the crackling of the flames, 
and the crash of falling buildings. The chief engineer 
has to attend all fires. He keeps his horse ready har- 
nessed, and when the alarm-bell sounds he knows ex- 
actly where the fire is, and moves towards it at once. 

THE ENGINE HOUSES. 

These rooms are models of neatness, and some of 
them are very elegant. They are no longer scenes of 
debauchery and dissipation, nor are they crowded at 
night by herds of loafers, who lodge at the expense of 
the city. Twelve men occupy the room. They have 
each a specific work to do, which occupies their time. 
The basement contains the kindling-wood and the 
furnace which keeps the water in the engine hot. On 
the ground floor are the engine-house and the stables. 
Everything is ready for a start. The engine is in per- 
fect order. The kindlings and coal are placed under 
the boiler. A swab, saturated with turpentine, lies on 
the platform on which the stoker stands. Four fire- 
men's caps hang on the engine. They belong to the 



552 Sunshine and Shadow 

engineer, assistant engineer, fireman, and stoker. Two 
of these men are always in the room. If the fireman 
goes to dinner, the engineer remains. If a fire breaks 
out in his absence, he does not return to the engine- 
house, but starts for the fire, the alarm signal telling 
him where it is. No fireman is allowed to appear at the 
fire without his cap. This he will find on the engine 
when he reaches the conflagration. A large dormitory 
over the engine-room, fitted up with every convenience, 
furnishes the sleeping quarters of the men. Great care 
is taken in securing persons for the department. They 
must be in sound physical health, have good moral 
characters, be quiet and industrious. No person not a 
member of the force, without a permit from head- 
quarters, is allowed to enter the engine-houses. The 
telegraph system connected with these places is as per- 
fect as can be conceived. The telegraph is under the 
charge of the foreman. When an alarm is telegraphed 
from any station, it must be repeated, and the number 
of the station-house that sends it given, or no attention 
is paid to it. If it is a false alarm, the foreman who sent 
it is held responsible. Every message is recorded, with 
the name of the sender. No station-house or eno-ine- 
house can be certain when a message is coming, there- 
fore they must be continually on the watch. If a 
response is not immediate, an officer is sent to the 
delinquent station for an explanation. While I was at 
the headquarters, to show how rapidly the communica- 
tions were made, the sujDerintendent of the fire alarm 
called the roll of every station, bell-tower, and engine- 
house in the district, including New York, Harlem, and 
Westchester County. Answers came back from every 



In New York. 553 

station, and llic time consumed in calling tlic roll and 
getting returns was just thirty seconds. 

AT A FIRE. 

The police of the city have charge of the order to 
be observed at a fire. Ropes are drawn at a proper 
distance, and no one allowed inside the lines ex- 
cept the firemen and officials, who wear their badges 
on their coats. Thieving and robbery, which were so 
conspicuous in former times, and so profitable, do not 
now exist. The men are not allowed to shout, or make 
any demonstrations on their way to or from the fire. 
Only certain persons are allowed to ride on the engine. 
Furious driving subjects the party to immediate arrest, 
and if repeated, to dismissal. 

THE GOVERNMENT OF THE DEPARTMENT. 

The whole department is under the charge of a com- 
mission, of which General Shaler, the efficient com- 
mander of the First Division of the New York State 
troops, is president. Every department of the force 
is run with military exactness. Men are tried for viola- 
tions of duty and breaches of law before the full board. 
The officers are held responsible for all the property 
under their care, and nothing is furnished to them 
except on a requisition, signed and countersigned 
after the regulation of the army. Rules are laid 
down for the exercise and drill of the horses, their 
grooming, when they should be fed, how much they 
shall be fed, and what shall be given to them. The 
men are drilled and exercised in everything that 
pertains to their duty. They are daily exercised in 



i. 



654 Sunshine and Shadow 

the manner of hitching up the horses to. the apparatus, 
which exercise, with the intelhgence and intuition of 
the horses, enables this to be clone in a time so slight 
as to seem incredible. New York may, indeed, con- 
gratulate herself upon having one of the most com- 
plete, efficient, and well disciplined fire departments 
in the world. 



In New York. 555 



LXVIII. 

FIRST DIVISION NATIONAL GUARD. 

FORMATION OF THE DIVISION. THE MILITART AS A POLICE FORCE. THE 

MILITARY AND RIOTS. THE SEVENTH REGI3IENT AND THE ASTOR PLACE 

RIOT. MAYOR AVOOd'S RIOT. AN EPISODE. — THE FINALE. FIRST DI- 
VISION AND THE WAR. PRESIDENTIAL RECEPTION. — THE PARADES. 

New York has always had occasion to be proud of 
her mihtary organizations. Since the Revolution there 
has been a corps of volunteer soldiers, on whom the 
authorities have relied to enforce law and preserve 
peace. For many years New York was without police. 
A few w^atchmen patrolled the streets at night, most 
of whom were laboring men through the day, and 
added to their scanty income by guarding the city at 
night. In all cases of brawls, riots, and all disturbances 
of the peace, the magistrates relied entirely upon the 
military. This force were voluntary soldiers, in every 
sense of the word. They purchased their own uniforms, 
when they had any, and their arms and equipments. 
They paid for their armories, and the expenses for 
music and parades were borne by an assessment on 
each member. Yet for eighty years the city military 
has been sustained, and when the new organization 
took place in 1862, the volunteer city troops ixumbered 



556 Sunshine and Shadow 

thirteen thousand men, some of them in the higliest 
state of disciphne, with expensive armories, uniforms, 
and equipments, and the whole division was unequalled 
by any volunteer organization in the world. 

FORMATION OF THE DIVISION. 

At the close of the revolutionary war the city 
troops were organized as artillery, and were designated 
as the First Division of Artillery. The commandant 
had under him all the nnuniformed militia of the city. 
Till 1867 there had been only three commanders of 
this division: General Stephens, who organized the divi- 
sion of artillery, General Morton, and General Sanford. 
General Sanford held his position for thirty years, and 
was the oldest commissioned officer in the state. In 
1846 the old military system was abolished, and the 
First Division of uniformed troops created. The com- 
mander of the First Division of Artillery, outranking 
all others, took command of the new military district, 
including the city and county of New York, with 
Staten Island.. In 1862 the law was again changed, 
and the city troops became the First Division of the 
National Guard. It is composed of four brigades, and 
musters thirteen thousand men. Under the new con- 
struction the arms and uniform are provided by the 
United States. The city of New York appropriates five 
hundred dollars a year to each regiment for an armor3^ 
Parades, music, and other expenses are borne by the 
troops. To keep such a body of men together, to sub- 
ject them to the proper drill and discipline, to make 
them bear their own expenses, which the First Division 
has done for eighty years, to keep the peace at all 



In New York. 557 

hazards and under all forms of excitement, to quell 
riots, shoot down their fellow-citizens when ordered so 
to do, to take their lives in their hands when called 
upon by their commanding olHcer to expose them- 
selves, — to do this because the}^ choose to do it, and 
to uphold the laws on all occasions, rellects great credit 
on the commanding general and the troops. 

THE MILITARY AS A POLICE FORCE. 

Till the coming in of the Metropolitan Police, the 
city troops held the quiet of New York in their hands. 
With the exception of a few riots, the city lias always 
been celebrated for its good order and quietness. It is 
full of desperate men, ready for plunder, robbery, and 
arson. It is the headquarters of the crime of the 
country. It is easy to hide in the multitude of our 
people. The dens, dark chambers, underground rooms, 
narrow alleys, and secret retreats, render criminals 
more safe in the city than in any other part of the 
land. But for the presence of the military nothing 
would be safe. Banks would be plundered, men robbed 
in the streets ; no man could sleep safely on his own 
pillow ; property and life would be as insecure as they 
were in Sodom. There is something very remarkable 
about the New York military. It represents every 
phase of life, from the highest to the lowest. It em- 
braces every nationality. The Seventh Eegiment is 
essentially New York. The Sixtj^-ninth is wholly Irish. 
In the time of the Know-Nothino; movement, the 
Seventy-first Regiment became American, yixiir excellence, 
and no man was allowed to join it unless he was born 
of American parents. Besides this, there v/ere German 



558 Sunshine and Shadow 

regiments, regiments heterogeneous, regiments com- 
posed mainly of Jews ; yet the whole division has been 
a unit in preserving public peace and enforcing law. 
Questions have come up that have agitated the whole 
community, and men have risen against the law- 
From thirty to fifty thousand men have filled the 
Park, defying the authorities, and threatening to de- 
stroy public property ; Wall Street has been crowded 
with maddened men, assembled to tear down the 
banks; mobs have gathered on political questions, — fl 

and on every one of these exciting topics the city 
troops have had as much direct interest, or indirect, as 
any of the rioters, and, as individuals, have been as 
much excited ; yet, as soldiers, they have never shrunk 
from their duty. They have promptly obeyed every 
call of their officers, have been under arms night and 
day for many days, placed their cannon in the street 
when ordered to do so, and were as reliable in any 
crisis as if they had no interest in the city and not a 
friend in the world. There is not a rogue in the Union 
that does not know that should he overpower the civil 
authorities, a few sharp taps on the City Hall bell 
would bring ten thousand bayonets to the support of 
law ; and that the city troops would lay down their 
lives as quickly to preserve the peace as they would 
to defend the nation's flaor on the battle-field. 

o 
THE MILITARY AND RIOTS. 

One 01 the earliest riotg was known as the Abolition 
riot, in which the houses and stores of leading abo- 
litionists w^ere attacked and sacked. The military 
"were called out, and a general conflagration prevented. 



In New York. 559 

During the great fire in 183G, whicli swept all New 
York, from Wall Street to the Battery, and from Broad 
Street to the water, the military were on duty three 
days and three nights. The day Maj-or Clark was 
sworn into office, he received a letter from the presi- 
dents of the city banks, informing him that the banks 
were to suspend specie 'j^ayments, and that they feared 
a riot. The mayor was terribly frightened, and sent 
for General Sanford, who assured the mayor that he 
could keep the peace. The next morning Wall Street 
was packed with people, who threatened to tear down 
the banks and get at the specie. The First Division 
was called out. There was probably not a man in that 
corps who was not as excited, personally, as the 
maddened throng that surged through the streets ; yet 
not a man shrank from his duty, or refused to obey his 
commander. The First Division were marched to the 
head of Wall Street, except the cavalry, w-ho w^ere 
stationed around the banks in the upper part of the 
city. General Sanford planted his cannon on the flag- 
ging in front of Trinity Church. The cannon com- 
manded the whole of Wall Street. He then sent word 
to the rioters that his fuse was lighted, and on the 
first outbreak he should fire upon the rioters, and that 
l^eaceable citizens had better get out of the way. The 
announcement operated like magic, and in a few- 
minutes there was not a corporal's guard left in the 
vicinity of the banks. The citizens knew that the 
troops would do their duty, and that silent park of 
artillery was an efficient peace corps. 



560 Sunshine and Shadow 



THE seventh EEGEVIENT AND THE ASTOR PLACE RIOT. 

This famous corps, of which the city has always 
been so justly proud, came prominently into notice 
during the Astor Place riots. As the military was 
composed of citizens taken from the banks, stores, 
shops, and places of mechanical toil, people regarded 
the troops rather as holiday soldiers than men organized 
for sanguinary conflicts. Within the lifetime of the 
generation that organized the riot, the troops had 
never come in contact with the citizens. It was not 
believed that they would fire on their friends if ordered 
so to do, and the threats to call out the miUtary were 
received with derision. If called out, it was presumed 
that they would fraternize with the people. The 
friends of Macready, the English actor, and of Forrest, 
had succeeded in creating; a hig-h state of excitement 
about these two men. Clinton Hall was then an opera 
house. Macready had an engagement, and was to 
appear in that place. A riot ensued. The Seventh 
Kegiment was called out to quell it. They marched 
to their position, and, in obedience to orders, they fired 
on the mob. From that moment they took their 
high jDlace in the confidence of our citizens as the con- 
servators of peace, which position they have never 
lost. Their discipline, soldierly bearing, full ranks, and 
splendid marching, have been the theme of universal 
praise. On the first visit of the corps to Boston, the 
Bostonians received with much allowance the eulo- 
giums on this fine corps. On reaching the city, an 
immense concourse greeted the regiment at the station, 
and followed it to the Common, where thousands of 



In New York. 561 

citizens were gathered to look on the soldiers, tlio 
boast of New York. The regiment formed in line on 
the great mall. The mighty concourse were hushed 
to silence, as not an order was given. The regiment 
stood in exact line, like statues. Soon the clear, ring- 
ino- tones of the commander shouted out the command, 
" Order — arms ! " Down came every gun, as if moved 
by machinery. Boston was satisfied. Shouts, bravoes, 
and chipping of hands rent the air. With the second 
order, "Parade — rest!" the regiment was nearly 
swallowed up alive. 

MAYOR wood's RIOT. 

On the formation of the Metropolitan Police, with 
Simeon Draper at its head, Mayor Wood organized an 
armed resistance to the force. He shut himself up in 
the City Hall, closed the iron gates, and filled the 
inside of the hall with the old police, with Matsell at 
its head, gave orders to resist unto blood, and to admit 
no one. Recorder Smith had issued warrants for the 
arrest of the mayor, and the new police, under Captain 
Carpenter, were ordered to serve the warrants. The 
Park contained not less than thirty thousand men, the 
larger part of whom were friends of Wood, and were 
resolved to sustain him in his resistance to the new 
order of things. Wood's police were armed with clubs 
and revolvers, with orders to use both if it was neces- 
sary to resist an entrance into the City Hall. The lo- 
cation of the new commissioners was in White Street, 
and their friends were assembled in full force around 
their quarters, as Wood's friends were assembled in 
the Park. The day before, General Sanford had served 
36 



562 Sunshine and Shadow 

a warrant on Mr. Wood, and the understanding was 
that all warrants from the new commission should be 
served through the commandant of the First Division. 
Under the notion of vindicating the law, two additional 
warrants were issued, which the commissioners resolved 
to have served on Wood by their own men. The 
attempt would have been madness. The officers would 
never have reached the City Hall steps. They would 
have been pounded to jelly by the maddened men who 
filled the Park, who were yelling, screaming, shouting, 
frenzied with excitement and bad whiskey, and cheer- 
ing for " Fernandy Wud." 

General Sanford had fifteen thousand men under 
arms. His cannon commanded both White Street and 
the City Park. He went to the commissioners in 
White Street, and reminded them of the agreement 
that all warrants should be served tlirouo;h him ; that 
if the new police undertook to serve papers, they not 
only would be destroyed, but that the lives of a thou- 
sand men would be taken before peace could be re- 
stored. " Better a thousand lives lost, than that the 
dignity of the law be not upheld," said the commis- 
sioners. " Perhaps so," replied the general, " if you 
and I are not among; the slain." 

AN EPISODE. 

While these scenes were beino; transacted with the 
new commissioners, an interesting episode occurred, 
in which the Seventh Regiment bore an important 
part. That regiment had accepted an invitation to 
accompau}^ Governor King to Boston, and participate 
in the celebration of the battle of Bunker Hill. March- 



In New York. 5G3 

ing down Broadway to embark, the regiment was 
ordered to halt in front of the City Hall to aid General 
Sanford in serving a warrant on Mayor Wood. Tlie 
general entered the City Hall in companj^ with the 
sheriff, served the w^arrant, and left the mayor in 
charge of that officer. Supposing the difficulty was 
over, the regiment were allowed to embark for Boston. 
Considering that their dignity had been lowered by 
the aid General Sanford rendered, the commissioners 
the next day got out two additional warrants (to which 
allusion has been made), which they were resolved the 
civil force should serve. General Sanford told the 
Commissioners that they could not serve them, and 
that he should not allow them to be served. "And 
how can you prevent it?" said the commissioners. 
'• I have cannon in the streets, and troops under my 
command, and I shall use both if it is necessary. I 
will not allow the peace of the city to be broken." 
" Well," said the commissioners, " we'll have a force 
here very soon who will protect us, and authority that 
will outrank you." Taking the hint. General Sanford 
went to the telegraph office, and sent a telegram to the 
colonel of the Seventh Piegiment, to the purport, 
" Stay where 3^ou are ; finish your visit. You are not 
needed in New York." 

Previous to this a telegram had been sent to Gover- 
nor King, signed by the new commissioners, to which 
was added the name of the brigadier general of the 
First Division. The purport was, " Return innnediately, 
and bring with you the Seventh Regiment." Governor 
King received the telegram just as he arose to make a 
speech under the marquee on Bunker Hill. He sup- 



564 Sunshine and Shadow 

posed New York was in the hfiiids of rioters. He had 
no doubt but that General Sanford was killed, as his 
name was not on the telegram, wdiile that of a sub- 
ordinate officer was. Greatly excited. Governor King 
left the tent, gave orders for the immediate return of 
the Seventh Regiment, took the noon train, and reached 
New York at eleven at night. The regiment imme- 
diately marched out, and descended the hill on their 
way home. At the foot of Bunker Hill they were met 
by General Sanford's order, countermarched, and went 
back to their festivities. 

THE FINALE. 

After assuring the commissioners that they would 
not be allowed to attempt to serve the warrants, 
General Sanford took Captain Carpenter and Captain 
Leonard by the arm, and walked up to the City Hall. 
Wood had not resisted the sheriff. He recoii-nized 
General Sanford's authority ; but he said he would not 
have a warrant served on him while he was alive by 
any member of the new police force. The crowd was 
so dense in the Park that a lane had to be made for 
the officers, and they went single file up to the iron 
gates. Matsell was in charge. General Sanford 
announced his coming, who his companions were, and 
what their business was. They had come from the 
Police Commission to serve warrants on Mayor Wood. 
The general ordered the gates to be opened, or he 
should batter them down with his cannon. Matsell 
reported the order to Mayor Wood, and he ordered the 
gates to be opened and the gentlemen admitted. They 
found the mayor in his private office, attended by his 



i 



In New York. 565 

counsel, Judge Dean. He was as bland as a summer's 
morning, was very glad to see his friends, had the war- 
rants examined by his counsel, who pronounced them 
all right ; and, though he had said he would resist unto 
death, he was very tame in his submission. The mayor 
was ordered to send away the police force from the 
City Hall, which he immediately did. This being 
done, the gates of the City Hall were thrown back, 
and the crowd quietly dispersed. Governor King 
sought an interview afterwards with General Sanford, 
and thanked him for his wise measures in preserving 
the peace of the city. The July riots transpired during 
the absence of the military from the state. Had the 
city troops not been in Pennsylvania, that flagrant out- 
rage would not have been attempted. 

FIRST DIVISION AND THE WAR. 

Every regiment in the First Division, through its 
colonel, offered its services to defend the capital when 
it was supposed to be in danger. The Seventh Regi- 
ment was the first to march out of the city. It was 
immediately joined by the leading regiments, who re- 
mained in the field as long as their services were needed. 
Over one liundred thousand men went from this city to 
the support of our flag during the war. Nine thousand 
men at one time have been in the field in connection 
with the First Division. Three thousand seven hundred 
and eighty officers were in the conflict who had be- 
longed to the First Division of our city troops. They 
were in command of regiments raised in all parts of 
the country. 



566 Sunshine and Shadow 

presidential reception. 

It has been usual for the First Division to tender a 
reception to the President of the United States on his 
first official visit to New York. This has been done 
since the days of General Jackson. On his way to the 
tomb of Douglas, President Johnson passed through 
New York. The First Division tendered him the 
usual escort' The courtesy gave great offence to many 
of our citizens, and shortly after General Sanford was 
removed, as his friends say, for tendering the escort to 
President Johnson and his suite. The division has 
never been political, and never can be while it retains 
its efficiency as a military organization. 

THE PARADES. 

There is no public recreation afforded to our citizens 
that gives such genuine and general pleasure as the 
parade of the division. Thirteen thousand men under 
arms, handsomely uniformed and equipped, with ban- 
ners, music, and display, are an attractive sight. Broad- 
way is cleared. The city for miles sends its tribute to 
the pavement. Thousands look on the pleasant sight, 
and the troops are cheered through the whole line. 
There is in no part of the -world so fine a volunteer 
corps. When it was proposed to send the Seventh 
Kegiment of New York to the Exhibition at Paris, as a 
specimen of our volunteer military, the idea was derided. 
France, it was said, is a nation of soldiers, and we would 
simply make ourselves ridiculous in sending young 
men from the warehouse, the office, and from trade, 
dressed up in uniform, as a specimen of American 



In New York. 567 

soldiers. The crowned heads of Europe would laugh 
at our raw troops, when compared with the standing 
armies of the Old World. But the Seventh Regiment 
would have created a sensation in Paris. With the ex- 
ception of the Imperial Guard of France, there are no 
such soldiers in England or France. The men in the 
British army are very small. The government has 
been obliged to lower the standard of size to get men 
to serve at all. The soldiers in the French army look 
stunted. The nation seems to have been swept to put 
dwarfs in uniform. In discipline, military drill, pre- 
cision, and soldierly movements, neither the French 
nor English soldiers will compare with our first-class 
regiments. I do not refer to the Imperial Guard who 
attend on the Emperor's person, which is the finest 
body of men I ever saw. The First Division embraces 
the most vigorous, liberal, and noble-hearted of our 
citizens. Smart, energetic men, whether merchant or 
mechanic, wdth shrewd and successful young men, are 
found in the National Guard. Whatever they under- 
take is a success. A concert, a fair, a testimonial, or a 
lecture, if they take hold of it, is sure to succeed. If 
any one wants aid or assistance, and can enhst the 
sympathies of the militar}^, money is poured out like 
water. Our citizen soldiery are the great conservative 
element of our community, the guardians of law, and 
the true bond of unity between the differeut sections 
of our country. 



568 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXIX. 

HON. JOHN KETTELAS HACKETT, 
RECORDER OF NEW YORK. 



THE BECOKDER'S COURT. — RECORDER HACKETT. — THE RECORDER ON THB 
BENCH. — SENTENCING CRIMINALS. — COURT OF GENERAL SESSIONS. 

recorder's court. 

This court is coeval with the city. It was borrowed 
from the English. The recorder of London was a 
dignitary of great consequence, and the lord mayor's 
special adviser. The most honored and the wisest 
magistrates were assigned to this position. In New 
York the court has cognizance of criminal offences, 
from felony to capital crimes. The city judge is the 
assistant of the recorder, and presides alternately with 
him. The room in which the court is held is small, but 
pleasant. It is crowded during the sessions of the 
court with jurymen, lawyers, witnesses, friends of the 
accused, eminent men, and with rogues and thieves of 
all degrees. On the left of the recorder, below the 
jurymen, huddled together in a row, are from fifty to a 
hundred of the most desperate criminals, thieves, and 
pickpockets that can be found in the city. They are 
well known to the judge and to the police. They like 



In New York. 569 

the excitement of a criminal trial. They take an 
interest in their friends who are before the court. 
They study criminal law. They learn how the prose- 
cution can be broken down. They learn the sharp 
practice of the law, and when to plead guilty to a small 
oftence to escape conviction of a heavier penalty. They 
are very sharp in committing crime, and adroit in es- 
caping punishment. They express their gratification 
when one of tbeir friends escapes in a very audible 
manner, not al\vays heeding the gavel of the judge 
who raps to order. ^ 

RECORDER HACKETT. 

He is the son of the world-renowned Shakespearian 
actor, James H. Hackett. His grandflxther was a native 
of Holland. He is a Knickerbocker, as have been 
almost all of the recorders. He held a front rank 
amoni>' the advocates at the New York bar. For several 
years he was associated with the corporation counsel in 
the trial of municipal cases. He is a splendid specimen 
of a man, over six feet high, and of graceful and robust 
proportions, with a full, powerful frame, a clear blue 
eye, and a voice sonorous and very musical. He com- 
mands the respect of all who have business at his 
court. He is bland in manner, but very decided and 
firm. He has the reputation of being severe in his 
sentences, but he is so tender and humane in pro- 
nouncing them, and so eminently just, that he secures 
the respect of all. He is a perfect gentleman on the 
bench, courteous and affable, as much so to the poorest 
prisoner as to the counsel that defends him. The best 
criminal lawyers practise before the recorder. Wealthy 



570 Sunshine and Shadow 

clients demmicl the leading talent; pettifoggers and 
Tombs lawyers also address his honor. But they are 
jDiit on their best behavior. If they deceive, resort to 
any tricks, are guilty of misrepresentation, they are 
turned out of court. Policy keeps them respectable 
and honest before the recorder. 

THE RECORDER ON THE BENCH. 

Promptly on the hour the recorder takes his seat, 
raps v^dtli his gavel, and calls to order. He dresses 
elegantly and in fii^e taste. In personal appearance 
he well becomes his station. One of the institutions of 
this court is the clerk, Mr. Henry Yandervoort. He is 
tall, slim, very courteous in his manner, and kind 
towards the prisoners at the bar. He is sixty years of 
age, but would not be taken for more than forty. He 
has been thirty-five years the clerk of this court. His 
long connection with desperate men has not hardened 
his spirit nor chilled his courtesy. He is an ency- 
clopaedia of criminal law. To the recorder he is in- 
valuable. He knows all the trials, statutes, penalties, 
precedents, and authorities needed for every occasion. 

SENTENCING CRIMINALS. 

The day for pronouncing sentence is one of great 
interest. Testimony that cannot be legally produced 
on the trial is heard in mitigation of the penalty. The 
patience, kind-heartedness, and courtesy of the recorder 
here come into full play. The position of the judge is 
one of great delicacy. While he gives the criminal the 
benefit of a doubt in every case, he must take care 
that clemency does not interfere with justice. He 



In New York. 571 

deals with the most desperate men and women. Before 
his eyes roguery is daily committed. Liars combine to 
clear the guilty. Every artifice is resorted to to excite 
sympathj^ Sick women, who have no connection with 
the case, are brought into court to work on the feelings 
of the iudo-e. Pretended mothers and sisters crv and 
sniflie at the bar. Babies are hired for a day in court. 
All this the recorder knows. 

Atrocious criminals plead guilty to a minor offence, 
or throw themselves on the mercy of the court : such 
get the full penalty of the law notwithstanding. A 
prisoner to whom clemency can be shown is sure of a 
merciful sentence if he pleads guilty. When a heavy 
j)enalty is pronounced, it is uttered in the tone of 
sincere regret, prefixed by the remark, '' My duty 
compels me to sentence you to the full term allowed 
by the law." The great mass of prisoners in this court 
are young : from sixteen to thirty. Whether sentenced 
or discharged they get good advice from the recorder. 
Frequently citizens of respectability and high standing 
are brought up for assault and battery, or for breaches 
of the peace : in such cases respectability and standing 
avail nothing. " You are old enough to know better 
than to commit the offence with which you are 
charged." Some claim a lenient sentence on the 
ground that they agree politically with his honor. 
"Prisoner, if you are a Democrat, you ought to know 
better than to do as you have done. I shall sentence 
you to the full term allowed by law." In trials or in 
sentences the recorder is prompt, clear, and brief. 
His charges embrace only the points in the case that 
the jury have to consider. No impertinent counsel 



572 Sunshine and Shadow 

rides over him. When a noisy brawler objects to a 
question, the recorder says, " I shall admit the ques- 
tion. You must appeal." The tone and manner in- 
dicate that nothing more need be said. 

COURT OF general SESSIONS. 

The Court of General Sessions is nearly coeval with 
the settlement of New York. It was recognized in the 
Dongan Charter of 1G84, in the time of George the 
Second. It was founded in the time of Charles the 
Second, when the city was called " The Ancient City 
of New York." The curious old black letter manuscript 
in the archives of the New York Historical Society 
contains the original formation of this court, its oaths, 
jurisdiction, and privileges. It has coordinate jurisdic- 
tion in criminal cases with the Court of Oyer and 
Terminer, over which presides any justice of the 
Supreme Court of the state. It has jurisdiction of all 
crimes committed in the county of New York. Two 
23olice magistrates have power to try and sentence 
all criminals guilty of misdemeanors. The Recorder's 
Court can try only cases where indictments have been 
found by the grand jury. The grand jury is a body 
composed of twenty-three members. They are re- 
quired by law to appear in open court, and present 
their indictments throuuh their foreman. All crim- 
inals have a right to a trial by jnry. If, w^ien ar- 
raigned before police magistrates, criminals demand a 
jury trial, they must be sent up to the Court of Ses- 
sions, to be tried before the recorder. No one can 
spend a day in the Recorder's Court without hiterest 



In New York. 573 

and j)i'ofit. By no other officer who represents the 
city and county is the Lnw better upheld, justice 
more honorably or humanely administered, and crime 
more surely punished, than by the recorder of the city 
NcAV York. 



574 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXX. 

REV. DR. SAMUEL OSGOOD, OF THE 
CHURCH OF THE MESSIAH. 

tJNITARIANISM IN NEW YORK. DK. OSGOOD AS A THEOLOGIAN. — BR. OSGOOD 

IN THE PULPIT. NEW CHURCH. 

Dr. Osgood is a leader among Liberal Christians. He 
is a representative man. He has been in the ministry 
over thirty years, and has been settled over the same 
church in tliis city for more than eighteen years. He 
looks scarcely forty. His hair is dark, his step elastic, 
and for vigor and fervor in the pulpit he is in the 
prime of his strength. He was installed successor to 
Rev. Dr. Dewey, in 1849. He took rank at once among 
our foremost preachers. He early identified himself 
with the cause of education, and has felt especial 
interest in the commercial and religious welfare of the 
city. He is one of the best platform speakers in the 
land. He prepares his sermons with great care, leaves 
his manuscript in his study, and brings to his pulpit 
the freshness of extemporaneous speaking and the 
accuracy of a written discourse. He is moderate in 
his views, and is more of an eclectic than a partisan. 
He is a genial and intelligent companion, a man of 



In New York. G75 

catliolic spirit, and blends himself tlioroiigldy with the 
humanities of the age. 

UNITARIANISM IN NEW YORK. 

There has always been a great deal of wliat usnally 
passes as Liberal religion in New York. But most of 
it was outside of church organizations, and known as 
free-thinking in the olden time. At the beginning of 
the nineteenth century the present Liberal Christian 
body had no open representatives here except a small 
society of Universalists, who held orthodox doctrines in 
almost all points, except of final universal salvation. 
The liberals themselves, who held Christian usages, were 
generally scattered through the leading churches. The 
ultra churches, who quarrelled with all revelation, met 
in clubs and conventicles of infidels. 

The first Unitarian preaching was given by Dr. 
Channing, April 25, 1819, in the Medical College, 
Barclay Street. This was followed by regular worship 
in a hall on the corner of Broadway and Reade Street. 
The first Congregational Church, as such, was in- 
corporated on the 19th November, 1819. It laid the 
corner stone of its edifice in Chambers Street, April 29, 
1820. Edward Everett preached the dedication sermon, 
January 20, 1821. Eev. William Ware was ordained 
pastor, December 18, 182L On November 24, 1825, he 
laid the corner stone of the second Unitarian Church, 
on the corner of Prince and Mercer Streets. Over the 
second church Rev. William R Lunt \vas ordained, June 
19, 1828. Mr. Lunt was succeeded by Rev. Dr. Dewey 
in 1834. The second church edifice was destroyed 
by fire in 1837. In 1839 the congregation dedicated 



576 Sunshine and Shadow 

the new Church of the Messiah, on Broadway, opposite 
Waverley Place. Dr. Osgood succeeded Dr. Dewey in 
1849. Rev. Henry W. Bellows succeeded Mr. Ware in the 
first church, January 4, 1839, and removed to the new 
edifice, the Church of the Divine Unity, on Broadway, 
in 1845, and removed to All Souls Church, where Dr. 
Bellows now ministers. The third Unitarian Church, 
under Rev. 0. B. Frothingham, was erected on Fortieth 
Street within a few years, after he had preached some 
time in a hall. He represents the more radical portion 
of the Unitarian body, while Dr. Bellows represents 
more the old denominational faith. 

DR. OSGOOD AS A THEOLOGIAN. 

While Dr. Osgood represents the Unitarian faith, as 
held by Channing and his associates, he has perhaps 
more of what is called the Broad Church spirit, and is 
less inclined to sectarian aggression, having always 
retained much of the moderate temper of his early 
pastor and teacher, President Walker. He is on friend- 
ly terms with our leading clergy of other denomina- 
tions, and has exchanged with Methodist and Uni- 
versalist ministers. 

Dr. Osgood was born in the town of Charlestown, 
Massachusetts, in 1812. In August, 1837, he was 
ordained over the Cons-reo^ational Church in Nashua, 
New Hampshire. He had there a very successful 
ministry. He was called to the Westminster Church, 
at Providence, Rhode Island ; whence he removed to 
the Church of the Messiah in this city. As a writer he 
has been prominent. He holds a ready pen, and writes 
with great force and elegance. In 1836 he edited the 



In New York. 577 

Western Messenger, at Louisville, Kentucky. From 
1850 to 1852 he edited the Christian Inquirer, in this 
city. He has been a very valuable contributor to the 
Christian Examiner, and to the Bibliotheca, and other 
quarterlies. His autobiography, entitled, " Mile Stones 
on Life's Journey," has had a very wide circulation. 
In 1858, before the students of Meadville Seminarj-, he 
gave his celebrated oration on the " Coming Church and 
its Clergy." In 1860, on the inauguration of President 
Felton, he gave the oration before the Alumni at Har- 
vard. He was the preacher before the Ancient and 
Honorable Artillery at their two hundred and twenty- 
ninth anniversary in Boston. His theme, "The Old 
Line of Manhood, and the New," was handled with 
masterly ability. He also published a volume of essays, 
and many discourses and papers. For eighteen years 
he has written a series of vacation letters in the sum- 
mer, from Plainfield, Connecticut, where he has a 
beautiful estate, which is made to combine literature 
and religion with landscape and art. 

Dr. Oso-ood is somewhat of a Churchman in his feel- 
ino;s. He has an evening; service, with chants and 
responses, much like the old church vespers. He has 
never, however, read prayer, except in the Sunday 
school and in certain ordinances. He keeps up the 
old Puritan usage of free prayer. This movement for 
a more responsive service, that he favors, has now wide- 
ly extended itself The American Unitarian Associa- 
tion are now publishing an extensive hymn book and 
liturgy in one volume. Dr. Osgood is very laborious 
in his parish. His pastoral visits are numerous. He 
preaches twice on the Sabbath, gives an address to the 
37 



578 Sunshine and Shadow 

Sunday school eveiy Sunday afternoon, and conducts a 
large Bible class. His theology is very much of the 
liberal evang'elical school of Germany. The late Richard 
Rothe is his favorite author. 

DR. OSGOOD in THE PULPIT. 

He wears the silk gown without the bands. He 
comes in from his vestry, and assumes his duties with 
great reverence, answering well Cowper's description 
of the pastor, who, conscious of his awful charge, is 
anxious mainly that the flock he feeds should feel it too. 
In his preaching he dwells much on the divine nature 
of Christ, and presents the gospel less as a system of 
ethics, and more as a communication of divine life, than 
is common with Unitarian preachers. In his mind 
Jesus Christ is the actual Mediator between God and 
man, not only by the historical world, but by the per- 
petual spirit, and in him we find our true union to the 
Father. He keeps affectionate and fraternal relations 
with the Unitarian bod}^, and takes the name, but 
never calls himself anti-Trinitarian. His Unitarianism 
consists in affirming the spirits of God, and his un- 
willingness to ascribe to them any plurality of persons, 
while he accepts the great manifestation of the one God, 
as Father, Son, and Spirit. He quotes with favor Dr. 
Dorner's definition of the Godhead, which affirms that 
" God is one absolute personality in three modes of 
being." He showed his Broad Church affinities by 
putting a volume of S. W. Robertson's sermons with 
one of Dr. Channing's imder the corner stone of his 
new church. 

He has always taken a decided patriotic stand in the 



In New York. 579 

pulpit. Although not a preacher of party politics, 
when the war broke out he had the children of the 
Sunday school sing the Star-spangled Banner on the 
church steps while the flag was hoisted upon the 
church tower. He has always held Dr. Channing's anti- 
slavery views, and aifirmed the wrong of slavery, yet 
deprecated insurrection and bloodshed on the part of 
agitators, until the slave power made war upon our 
northern freedom. Since the war he has favored kind- 
ly yet decided measures of reconstruction, such as shall 
secure the liberty of the freedman, and in due time 
restore all the seceding states. In his Thanksgiving 
sermon, November 28, 1867, he urged the people to 
repeat. the administration of Washington, and call to 
the chair of Washington the bold and sagacious soldier 
who had borne the sword and upheld the flag of the 
father of his country. 

Dr. Osgood mingles freely in social affairs, especially 
literary and public, and speaks often in their behalf. 
He is an impressive speaker, and secures rapt atten- 
tion, whether in the pulpit or on the platform. He has 
practised extempore speaking from his boyhood, and is 
master of the art. 

THE NEAV CHURCH. 

In 1849, when Dr. Osgood took charge of the Church 
of the Messiah, it was located far up town. It was sur- 
rounded entirely with magnificent dwellings, and Avas in 
the aristocratic part of our city. Nearly all the wealthy 
and eminent men lived in that neighborhood. A 
volcanic eruption would not have devastated that por- 
tion of the city more thoroughly, as far as dwellings 
are concerned, than have trade, hotels, and boarding- 



580 Sunshine and Shadow 

houses. The Church of the Messiah was emptied. It 
was simply a question whether the pastor "should fol- 
low his flock or abandon his ministrj^ Eligible lots 
were obtained on Fourth Avenue and Thirty-fourth 
Street, On it the society has erected a church, which, 
for solidity, elegance, and completeness, has not been 
exceeded by any church edifice in New York. It is in 
the Rhenish style, and Byzantine Gothic. It is very 
churchly. The pulpit is unique, and embodies the altar 
and the cross. Every portion of the church is sym- 
bolical of the Messiah. His words are eno-raven on the 
arches and placed on the capitals. The portico is in a 
style of peculiar richness, and is adorned from designs 
wholly original, and taken from nature, expressive of 
charity, piety, beneficence, innocence, and love. The 
huge cross of stone which is placed on the side of the 
building, rmming from the wall beyond the eaves, is 
a very impressive symbol. The house will seat about 
twelve hundred, and cost about two hundred thousand 
dollars. The congregation is one of the richest in New 
York. Dr. Osgood's taste would lead to a less sumptu- 
ous edifice. But his people feel that they are entitled 
to one of the best houses of worship in the land, and 
so the present costly structure takes its place among 
the pubhc religious institutions of New York. 






In New York. 581 



LXXI. 

BISHOP ONDERDONK. 

When I first became acquainted with Bishop Onder- 
donk, he was under the ban of his peers. He had been 
tried for alleged immoralities, and suspended as a 
bishop and as a priest. He was not allowed to officiate 
or to preach. He was decidedly the ablest man that 
has ruled the see of New York for many generations. 
In personal appearance he resembled Napoleon the 
First, of which flict he was quite proud. He was ele- 
vated to his position as bishop from the honorable post 
of assistant minister to Trinity. He assumed the mitre 
in troublesome times. What is now known as Ritual- 
ism was making havoc in the church — candles were 
placed on the altar in the day time ; worshippers bowed 
at the name of the Savior ; the priest turned his back 
on the congregation, and preached in the white surplice 
rather than in the black gown. Symbols of popery, as 
they were called, were introduced into many churches. 
Over these innovations Bishop Onderdonk threw the 
protection of his official position. The hot contest 
culminated in the ordination of Andrew Carey. His 
church notions were so extreme that he was accounted 
more of a Catholic than a Protestant. Against the 



582 Sunshine and Shadow 

protest of many presbyters and laymen, the bishop de- 
cided to ordain Mr. Carey. While the services were 
in progress, two rectors, belonging to this city, left their 
pews, and walked np the aisles to the chancel, and 
openly protested against the admission of Carey into 
the church by ordination. This public protest created 
the wildest excitement in the congregation. The 
bishop pronounced the objections frivolous, and pro- 
ceeded with the service. His friends declare that the 
persecutions which ended in his suspension originated 
with the Carey ordination. 

Besides being High Church, Bishop Onderdonk had 
great executive ability, and ruled the diocese, it is said, 
with an iron hand. In the midst of the excitement 
created by the Carey ordination, the Episcopal Conven- 
tion of the state came together. It was composed of 
churchmen hiarh and low. The session was one Ion 12: 
to be remembered. Men were too heated and excited 
for calm discussion. The bishop's rulings w^ere sharp, 
and on more than one instance he shut off debate, as 
some thought, unfairly. Judge Duer, of the Superior 
Court, was in that convention. He was one of the 
ablest judges in the state, and a very influential mem- 
ber of the Episcopal Church. He was not friendly to 
the bishop, and the bishop knew it. He arose to ad- 
dress the convention. The bishop refused to hear him, 
and ordered liim to his seat. He was not accustomed 
to such peremptory commands, and he insisted upon 
his right to the floor. The bishop thundered out, "Sit 
down, sir ! sit down ! " To this imperious command 
the judge submitted. The convention was greatly ex- 
cited, and all knew the matter would not end there. 



In New York. 583 

"Within a year from that hour the bishop was silenced, 
and the ban was never removed. 

The diocese of New York always believed their 
bishop to be a martyr. Had their voice been heeded, 
he would never have been silenced. To the day of his 
death he was their bishop, and he was de facto the 
bishop of New York. He lived in the Episcopal resi- 
dence. His salary was paid by the standing committee, 
and paid first, before the assistant bishop could draw 
his pay. 

The bishop regarded his trial and sentence as a 
punishment for his official acts, which he performed in 
good conscience. He thought the sentence unjust, but 
bov/ed to it with great meekness. During the long 
term of his suspension, the quiet and patient spirit that 
lie exhibited — under what he conceived to be his 
wrono's — won the admiration of strano-ers, thousxh it 
failed to touch the hearts of his brethren. The bitter- 
ness of his foes followed him to the tomb. On receiv- 
ing his sentence, he withdrew at once from public gaze 
and from public life. Pie selected Dr. Seabury's church 
as his home, for the doctor had been his life-long friend. 
In this church Carey had been ordained, and was made 
assistant minister. All the honors and attentions that 
could be lavished upon the bishop by the Church of 
the Annunciation were paid to him. He attended the 
daily service of the church as well as the Sundify. 
It was a touching sight on communion days to see 
this aged man leave his pew alone, and lead in the 
communion, as became his rank, — his form, bent 
with sorrow rather than age, his step slow and 



584 Sunshine and Shadow 

heavy, as if pressed down with some great grief, — and 
so kneel alone at the altar to receive the bread and 
wine. 

After his suspension he seldom left his house, 
except to attend church. He withdrew from all 
social and ecclesiastical gatherings ; received indi- 
viduals who called upon him, but entertained no 
company. He seldom rode or walked in public. On 
the death of Bishop Wainwright, great efforts were 
made to restore the bishop. The House of Bishops 
refused the request, on the ground that the bishop 
not being penitent, he could not be forgiven. He 
replied that, having committed no wrong, he could 
not confess what he had not done. He was the 
wronged man, and had borne the injustice for fifteen 
years without complaint. His peers judged him 
guilty of contumely, and refused to lift the sen- 
tence. After the election of Bishop Potter, satisfied 
that there was no hope that the ban would be re- 
moved during life, he sank rapidly, and was soon 
borne to his burial. Few men have such a burial. 
His funeral was attended by an immense throno:. 
The highest honors of the church w^ere lavished upon 
his memory. His life-long friend. Dr. Seabury, 
preached a funeral sermon — which was more a eu- 
logy than a sermon — from the felicitous text, " He 
was a burning and a shining light, and ye w^ere 
willing for a season to rejoice in that light." He 
was the beloved bishop of Trinity Church. They 
caused to be erected to his memory a costly me- 
morial in marble, which adorns the Episcopal Ca- 



In New York. 585 

thedral. With a delicate chisel the artist has rep- 
resented a deadly serpent darting his venomous 
fangs at the bishop, — a symbol of the calumny 
that drove him from his throne, and pursued him 
till he was laid away in his tomb. 



586 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXII. 

AARON BURR AND HIS DUEL. 

The romance of Aaron Burr, by Parton, conveys 
about as correct an idea of the man as the likeness in 
the front of the book does of his personal appearance. 
Those who wish to know how Aaron Burr really looked 
will find' a likeness of him in the State Library at Al- 
ban_y. It presents to the eye the features, expression, 
and general appearance of Burr ; such as we should ex- 
pect from his well-known character. At the time of 
his death, Hamilton resided in Park Place, near Broad- 
w\ay. Burr resided at Richmond Hill, — an eminence 
that could be distinctly seen from Broadway near 
Prince. It has since been levelled, and the lots on 
Charlton Street and Varick occupy the site where 
Burr's house stood. It was a country residence, and 
Burr rode in his own carriage to his office. He was 
very civil to all parties, and was on good terms with 
the boys in the neighborhood, who opened and shut 
his gate for him as he rode in and out. Sometimes 
he would throw them a few pence as a reward. One 
who knew Burr Avell, played on his grounds by his 
permission, opened and shut his gate, held his horse, 
and performed other boyish service, is now a man, 



In New York. 58 



>-r 



and one of the most respected members of the Dutch 
Church. He says that he saw Burr daily for some 
time before he fought the duel in which Hamilton 
fell. His conduct was so strange as to attract atten- 
tion. Dailj' Burr visited a part of his grounds, pistol 
in hand. AValking among the trees, he would pace 
off a given distance, mutter something to himself, 
turn, and fire at a tree. He was practising for his 
duel. After the death of General Hamilton, this fact 
being known, it deepened the belief that Burr intended 
to kill Hamilton. It intensified the indisrnation against 
him, and made New York too hot to hold him. 

There are few memorials of Burr remainiuii: in this 
city. The Manhattan Bank — one of the strongest and 
most profitable, a close corporation with a perpetual 
charter, which asks no fivors, which has never sus- 
pended specie payment — is a monument of Burr's 
adroitness and perfidy. He carried the charter through 
the legislature, and gained for the bank one of the 
most valuable franchises ever granted by the state ; 
and he did it by the insertion of a single clause which 
hid the real purpose of the charter. 

Almost side by side, in the vicinity of Central Park, 
stand the country seat of Hamilton and the later resi- 
dence of Burr. On a commanding; eminence stands 
the mansion of Mine. Jumel. At the age of seventy- 
eight Burr wooed and won the wealthy widow. In 
her mansion he passed a brief honeymoon ; squandered 
her fortune ; made her jealous by his gallantries ; 
quarrelled with her, and left her, never to return. He 
closed his eventful life on Staten Island. He lay sick, 
helpless, and deserted. But for the woman with whom 



588 Sunshine and Shadow 

his connections were equivocal, who had compassion 
upon him, and rescued him from want, his end would 
have been miserable indeed. Old, destitute, and for- 
saken, he would have died without a friend. Just 
before he closed his eyes. Burr said of her, " You can say, 
' She gave the old man a home ivhen nohody else woidd ! ' " 



In New York. 589 



LXXIII. 

REV. DR. JOHN DOWLING OF THE 
BAPTIST CHURCH. 

riRST BAPTIST CHUKCH. — REV. DR. DO'WXING. — IIIS EARLY LIFE. — IN XEW 

YORK. PERSONAL. 

FIRST BAPTIST CHURCH. 

As early as 1709, persons holding Baptist views met 
for worship in New York. At that time a Rev. Mr. 
Wickenclon preached in a private house. He was 
arrested by the authorities, ostensibly for preaching 
without a license from the crown, but really for at- 
tacking infant baptism and the unholy connection of 
church and state. He was confined in prison three 
months. In 1745 a meeting of Baptists was held in 
a private house, and Rev. Mr. Miller baptized a few 
converts. The ordinance of baptism was administered 
in the night, through fear of a mob. Both the preach- 
ing and ordinances of the Baptists were attended with 
much -pevii. Considering it cowardly to iunnerse in 
the night, the little company appealed to the governor 
for protection. He not only granted it, but attended 
the ordinance, and stated his conviction that " im- 
mersion was the ancient mode." In June, 17G2, the 



590 Sunshine and Shadow 

First Baptist Church was recognized. Rev. John Gano 
was chosen pastor. He held that position, with great 
acceptance, for twentj^-six years. From so feeble a 
beginning the large number of Baptist churches in 
New York had their origin. 

REV. DR. DOWLING. 

For nearly a quarter of a century, Dr. Bowling has 
been pastor of the Berean Baptist Church. He is a 
man of commanding stature, of imposing personal ap- 
pearance, and is head and shoulders taller than his 
brethren. He is one of the best pulpit orators in the 
denomination. He has a fine head, a voice strong and 
melodious, an impressive earnestness of manner that 
fixes attention, with a great flow of language. He 
draws large congregations wherever he preaches. His 
church, over which he has so long been a pastor, is 
situated in one of the most undesirable locations in 
New York ; yet his house is always full, and his Sun- 
day school is one of the best. He prepares his sermons 
with great care, but does not read them. Great re- 
vivals have attended his ministry wherever he has 
been settled. He is a laborious student. There are 
peculiar freshness and vigor about his performances. 
Few men have written as much or as elaborately as 
Dr. Dowling. During the rage of Millerism, in 1843, 
he wrote one of the most popular and able books 
against that delusion. His defence of the Protestant 
Scriptures, which was very favorably reviewed, had a 
wide circulation. His great work on the History of 
Romanism is a monument of industry and learning — a 
mine of wealth, and perfectly exhaustive of the subject. 



In New York. 591 



HIS EARLY LIFE. 

Dr. Dowling was born on the sea-coast of Sussex, 
England, in May, 1807. His home was near the spot 
where WilHam the Conqueror landed, and where he, 
in his celebrated battle of Hastings, drove the last Saxon 
king from the English throne. His parents were devout 
members of the Established Church. He was converted 
at sixteen, and accounting his infant baptism of no avail, 
he sought baptism by immersion at the hands of Rev. 
Joseph Ivirney, and united with the Eagle Street Bap- 
tist Church, London. He commenced preaching Christ 
in and around the city, and frequently in Baptist pul- 
pits. 

IN NEW YORK. 

Dr. Dowling came to this country in 1832. He was 
ordained to the Baptist ministry on the Hudson River. 
Soon after, he removed to Newport, and preached to 
the Second Baptist Church with great success. In 
1839 he became pastor of the Pine Street Baptist 
Church, Providence, where his ministry was attended 
by extensive and powerful revivals. In 1844 he was 
called to his present charge, where he has labored with 
great results, with the exception of a few years which 
he spent with the Sansom Street Church in Philadelphia. 
He was recalled to his old charge with great unanimity, 
and has continued a vigorous congregation from 1856 
to the present time. 

PERSONAL. 

Besides the works referred to, of a controversial char- 
acter. Dr. Dowling has published a large number of de- 
votional and literary works, with occasional sermons 



592 



Sunshine and Shadow 



and addresses. His " Judson Offering," written mainly 
by himself, had a large circulation. His " Power of Il- 
lustration, as an Element of Success in Preaching and 
Teaching," is a text-book, and one of the most popular 
in the language ; while his " Night and Morning, or 
Words of Comfort to those who are Sowing in Tears," 
has been blessed to thousands in seasons of revivals. 
Dr. Dowling is a man of catholic spirit, and a warm and 
genial friend. He exhibits in his own preaching the 
element of illustration as an element of success. His 
theme is the Cross, and he allows nothing to intervene 
between the Savior and the sinner. He is earnest in 
deliA^ery, impressive, interesting, and diversified in his 
manner of presenting divine truth. The fruits are seen 
in his long and successful pastorate. 



In New York. 593 



LXXIV. 

PHINEAS TAYLOR BARNUM. 

HIS EARLY CAREER. — MR. BARNUM AS A PUBLIC CATERER. — THE THEORY OF 
SUCCESS. — REVERSES. PEIISONAL. FAILURE AND SUCCESS. 

Mr. Barnum is one of our most remarkable men. 
He is a resident of the city of New Y^ork. He lives 
among the millionnaires, in a costly brown-stone house 
on Fifth Avenue, corner of Thirty-ninth Street, and is a 
millionnaire himself He has retired from the details 
of active life, though he has the controlling interest in 
the Barnum and Van Amburo-h Museum. He has made 
and lost several fortunes, but in the evenino; of his life 
he is in possession of wealth, which he expends with 
great liberality and a genial hospitality. He is fifty* 
seven years of age, of temperate habits and prudent 
life, which insure him many years more of vigorous 
manhood. 

HIS EARLY CAREER. 

He was born in Bethel, Connecticut, and was tram^d 
in a village tavern kept by his father. He had a hope- 
ful, buoyant disposition, and was distinguished by his 
irrepressible love of fun. At the nge of thirteen he 
began life for himself, and married when he was nine- 
teen. As editor of the Herald of Freedom he obtained 
38 



594 Sunshine and Shadow 

a world-wide notoriety. The sheet was distinguished 
for its pith and vigor. Owing to some sharp comments 
on officials, Mr, Barnum was incarcerated in jail, as his 
friends thought, unjustly. On the day of his liberation, 
his friends assembled in great force, with carriages, 
bands of music, and banners, and escorted him in tri- 
umph to his home. 

MR. BARNUM AS A PUBLIC CATERER. 

Mr. Barnum's first appearance as an exhibitor was in 
connection with an old negress named Joyce Heth, the 
alleged nurse of George Washington. His next attempt 
was to obtain possession of Scudder's American Mu- 
seum. Barnum had not five dollars in the world. He 
did not -p^iy one dollar down. The concern was little 
better than a corpse ready for burial. Yet he bound 
himself by terms fearfully stringent, and met all the 
conditions as they matured. He secured the person of 
Charles S. Stratton, the celebrated dwarf, known as 
General Tom Thumb, and exhibited him with astound- 
ing success. He secured the services of Jenny Lind, 
binding himself to pay her a thousand dollars per night 
for a hundred and fifty nights, assuming all expenses 
of every kind. The contract proved an immense pe- 
cuniary success. From the days of Joyce Heth to the 
present time Mr. Barnum has always had some special- 
ity connected with his shows, which the world pro- 
nounces humbugs, and Mr. Barnum does not deny that 
they are so. Among these are the Woolly Horse, the 
Buffalo Hunt, the Ploughing Elephant, the Fegee Mer- 
maid, the What-Is-It, and the Gorilla. But Mr. Barnum 
claims, that while these special features may not be all 



In New York. 595 

that the public expect, every visitor to his exhibition 
gets the worth of his money ten times over ; that his 
milHon curiosities and monstrosities, giaiijts and dwarfs, 
his menagerie and dramatic entertainments, present a 
diversified and immense amount of amusement that 
cannot be secured anywhere else. A large-sized ba- 
boon has been recently on exhibition at the Museum. 
It was advertised as a living gorilla, the only specimen 
ever brought to this country. Mr. Barnum's agents 
succeeded in hoodwinking the press to such a degree 
that the respectable dailies described the ferocity of 
this formidable gorilla, whose rage was represented to 
be so intense, and his strength so fearful, that he came 
near tearing the persons in pieces who had brought 
him from the ship to the Museum. Barnum had not 
seen the animal, and when he read the account in the 
Post he was very much excited, and wrote immediately 
to his men to be very careful that no one was harmed. 
The baboon was about as ferocious as a small-sized 
kitten. The story did its work, and crowds came to 
see the wonderful beast. Among others a professor 
came from the Smithsonian Institute. He examined the 
animal, and then desired to see Mr. Barnum. He in- 
formed the proprietor that he had read the wonderful 
accounts of the gorilla, and had come to see him. " He 
is a very fine specimen of a baboon," said the professor, 
" but he is no gorilla." " What's the reason that he is 
not a gorilla?" said Barnum. The professor replied, 
that gorillas had no tail. " I know," said the showman, 
"that ordinary gorillas have no tails, but mine has, and 
that makes the specimen more remarkable." The 
audacity of the reply completely overwhelmed the 



596 Sunshine and Shadow 

professor, and he retired without a word, leaving Mr. 
Barnum in possession of the field. 

THE THEORY OF SUCCESS. 

Mr. Barnnm's rule has been to give all who patronize 
him the worth of their money, without being particular 
as to the means by which he attracts the crowd to his 
exhibitions. He justifies his little deceit in securing 
the visitor a greater amount of pleasure than he bar- 
gained for. Thus Warren sent an agent to Egypt to 
write on the Pyramids, in huge letters, " Buy Warren's 
Blacking." He kneW the whole world would be indig- 
nant, but they would buy his blacking. When Genin, 
the hatter, gave two hundred and twenty-five dollars 
for the Jenny Lind ticket, all the world knew that 
Genin sold hats in New York. Barnum offered the 
Atlantic Telegraph Company five thousand dollars for 
the privilege of sending the first twenty words over 
to his Museum. The notoriety would be worth more 
than that sum. Leonard Gosslino; came out as Mons. 
Gossling, with French blacking. He drove a fine car- 
riage through New York, drawn by a splendid span of 
blood bays, with " Gossling's Blacking " emblazoned in 
gold letters on it. Gossling drove the team, attended 
by a band of music. Jim Crow Rice introduced the 
blacking into Bowery Theatre, and was paid for singing 
an original blacking ditty. As Warren's blacking was 
good, as Genin's hats were first-class, and Gossling's 
blacking an excellent article, and they never befooled 
the public to its injury, no harm was done. On this 
principle Mr. Barnum has catered to public amusement 
for over thirty years. He has gotten up baby-shows, 



In New York. 597 

poultry-shows, and clog-shows. He has ransacked crea- 
tion for curiosities, and all the world has contributed 
to the novelty and value of his Museum. 

REVERSES. 

It has not been all sunshine with Mr. Barnum. 
His imposing villa at Bridgeport was burned to the 
ground. Anxious to build up East Bridgeport, he be- 
came responsible to a manufacturing company, and his 
fortune was swept away in an hour. The citizens of 
Bridgeport, without distinction of party or sect, assem- 
bled and expressed their sympathy with Mr. Barnum 
in his great embarrassment, and in " his irretrievable 
ruin," as they thought. But with wonderful sagacity 
lie relieved himself As a business man he has sino-ular 
executive force and great capacity, and would have 
been successful in anything he undertook. 

PERSONAL. 

Mr. Barnum has held many positions of trust and 
honor. He was elected president of the Crystal Palace 
Exhibition in 1854. He was appointed by the gover- 
nor of Connecticut State Commissioner to the Grand 
Exposition at Paris. He was elected to represent the 
town of Fairfield in the le^'islature of Connecticut in 
1865 and 1866. He was defeated for Congress in 1867, 
owing to the reaction which commenced in Northern 
States in regard to negro suffrage. Mr. Barnum has 
been a great friend to the temperance cause, and one 
of the most racy and eloquent of its advocates. He 
has a clear, flowing style, full of anecdote and points, 
which always draws crowds, and secures continued 



598 Sunshine and Shadow 

interest. He lectures for benevolent and philanthropic 
audiences, giving away the entire proceeds. He was 
an influential speaker while a member of the legis- 
lature, being always distinguished for his practical 
good sense and sparkling wit. He received a telegram 
one day while he was speaking, announcing that the 
Museum was on fire, and that nothing probably would 
be saved. He laid the telegram on the desk, and 
finished his speech. He went to New York the next 
day, and found the Museum a pile of black, smouldering 
ruins. All that was left was the lease of the land, hav- 
ing eleven years to run. This lease was sold to James 
Gordon Bennett for two hundred thousand dollars, cash. 

FAILUEE AND SUCCESS. 

Men who resrard Mr. Barnum as a charlatan ; who 
attribute his success to what he calls "humbug," "clap- 
trap," " exaggerated pictures," and " puffing advertise- 
ments;" who undertake to imitate him in these ques- 
tionable performances, will find that the secret of his 
success does not lie in that direction. A wealthy man, 
after repeated reverses, he is. Whether he would not 
have been as rich without the " clap-trap," whether the 
titles " humbug," and the " prince of humbugs," which 
were first applied to him by himself as a part of his 
stock in trade, have not damaged * beyond redemption 
his social status, are questions which I will not stop 
here to argue. But under all the eccentricity, jug- 
glery, and tomfoolery, there was a business intelligence, 
tact, energy, indomitable perseverance, shrewdness, and 
industry, without which all his humbugging would 
have been exerted in vain. From distributino; " Sears's 



In New York. 599 

Bible " he became lessee of the Vauxhall saloon ; tlience 
a Aviiter of advertisements for an amphitheatre, at four 
dollars a week ; then negotiating, without a dollar, for 
the Museum, giving the proprietor what he asked, a 
piece of unencumbered land, as securit}^, a mere morass, 
kept m the family because it was worthless, and nobody 
would buy it ; outwitting a corporation who intended to 
outwit him on the purchase of the Museum over his 
head ; exhibiting a manufactured mermaid, which he 
had bought of a Boston showman ; palming oil' Tom 
Thumb as eleven years of age, when he was but five ; 
showing his woolly horse, and exhibiting his wild 
buftaloes at Iloboken ; — these, and other smart things 
that Barnnm did, are well known to the public. But 
there are other things which the pul^lic do not know. • 
Barnum was thoroughly honest, and he kept his busi- 
ness eng-ao-ements to the letter. He cheated the 
proprietor of the Museum in the matter of the security. 
The impression he left about " Ivy Island " was, that it 
was a valuable farm in Connecticut, while it was a 
mere boo;. On it he could not have raised' five dollars 
in the New York market, where its value was known. 
But without that deception he W'ould have lost the 
Museum, he argues. He kept his business engagement 
to the letter, as he mtended to do, so his deception did 
not harm. Once in the Museum, he taxed every energy 
to the utmost to secure success. He adopted the most 
rigid economy. Finding a hearty coadjutor in his wife, 
he put his family on a short allowance, and shared him- 
self in the economy of the household. Six hundred 
dollars a year he allowed for the expenses of his family, 
and his wife resolutely resolved to reduce that sum to 



600 Sunshine and Shadow 

four liiindred dollars. Six months after the purchase 
of the Museum the owner came into the ticket office at 
noon. Barnum was eating his frugal dinner, which 
was spread before him. " Is this the way jou eat your 
dinner?" the proprietor inquired. Barnum said, "I 
have not eaten a warm dinner since I bought the 
Museum except on the Sabbath, and I intend never to 
eat another on a week day until I am out of debt." 
" Ah ! you are safe, and will pay for the Museum before 
the year is out," replied the owner. In less than a 
year the Museum was j^aid for out of the profits of the 
establishment. 

Barnum deceived in resrard to the as-e of Tom Thumb, 
but his performances were genuine. The mermaid was 
a cheat, but the show at the Museum presented more 
for the money than any exhibition in the country. 
During the whole of his career, Barnum has exhibited 
a conscientiousness that borders closely on high reli- 
gious principle. His extravagances were the mere 
froth of the bottle ; the article beneath the foaming 
cover was genuine and stout. He believed in adver- 
tising, but knew well enough that it was money thrown 
away if he had not something to show. He staked 
everything he had in the world on his contract with 
Jeimy Lind. He based his expectation of success, not 
on her voice simply, nor on her reputation as an artist, 
but her character for extraordinary benevolence and 
generosity, — these he knew would captivate the Amer- 
ican public. 

To say that he failed, and lost several fortunes, is 
only to say that he was human. His confidence in the 
clock company was extraordinary. It grew out of the 



In New York. 601 

impulses of his generous and confiding nature, and his 
desire to aid Iiis friends in building up a part of Bridge- 
port, and make the town prosperous. But the manner 
in Avhich he relieved himself from these obligations and 
retrieved his fortune, exhibits the pluck, shrewdness, 
and business ability of the man. That he was shame- 
fully and wickedly defrauded no one has any question. 
lie did not owe a dolhir of personal debt, and he 
resolved not to pay the clock notes. He considered 
any strategy fair to elude their payments, and free 
himself from the pecuniary obligation they imposed. 
He put all his property out of his hands; sold his 
Museum — over the left ; came to New York, and 
commenced " keeping boarders." He lived from hand 
to mouth; was arrested continually on suits, and brought 
up before the judges for examination, all which were 
duly chronicled in the paper. Clock notes were at a 
discount. It w^as said that Barnum had gone under so 
deep that he never would recover. The paper on which 
his name was placed was considered fit for the waste- 
basket or the stove. The notes were bous-ht for a sono; 
and cancelled. AVhen the last clock note was paid 
Barnum was himself ai»:ain. 

To relieve a friend, he went into court and offered 
himself as bail for the sum of five thousand dollars. It 
was a libel suit. Three of them were pending, and in 
all of them Mr, Barnum ofiered himself as security. 
The lawyer, desiring to imprison the defend.'mt, was 
both vexed and impertinent. He put the showman 
through a course of examination. " Mr. Barnum, are 
you worth fifteen thousand dollars ? " '• I am," was the 
reply. " I desire a list of your property before you 



602 Sunshine and Shadow 

are accepted as further security," the lawyer said. So 
Barnum began to call off the articles of property that 
he valued at fifteen thousand dollars, requesting the 
lawyer to keep an accurate inventory. " One preserved 
elephant, one thousand dollars ; one stuffed monkey- 
skin, and two gauder-skins, good as new — fifteen dol- 
lars for the lot." Starting to his feet in indignation, the 
lawyer cried out, " Mr. Barnum, what are 3^ou doing ? " 
" I am giving you an inventory of my Museum. It 
contains only fifty thousand different articles, which I 
intend to call off, and which I wish you to take down." 
The limb of the law appealed to the court. Judge 
Ulshoeffer decided that if the lawyer was unwilling to 
take Mr. Barnum's affidavit to his responsibility he 
must go on with the catalogue. The lawyer decided to 
take him for bail without a further bill of particulars. 

There are no better rules for business success than 
those laid down by Mr. Barnum, which have guided his 
own course. Among them are these : " Select the kind ^jt 
of business suited to your inclination and temperament ; 
let your pledged word ever be sacred ; whatever you 
do, do with all your might ; us6 no description of in- 
toxicating drinks ; let hope predominate, but do not be 
visionary ; pursue one thing at a time, but do not scatter 
your powers ; engage proper assistance ; advertise your 
business j live within your income, if you almost starve ; 
depend upon yourself, and not upon others." 

Besides his town residence, he has a superb estate in 
Fairfield, Connecticut, which is called Lindencroft. 
Here he dispenses an elegant hospitality, and dwells 
in the confidence and esteem of his fellow-citizens in 
his native state. His business success has hardly a 



In New York. 603 

parallel. The revenue books of the city reveal the fact 
that the Museum receipts for 1867 were considerably 
over four hundred thousand dollars, being for more 
than those of any other place of amusement in 
America, with only one exception. The doors were 
open from sunrise till ten P. M. A constant stream of 
visitors passed in and out all day. Country visitors, with 
valise in hand, visited the Museum from sunrise till the 
business hours commenced. Thousands made their in- 
spection of this gallery of curiosities before they took 
breakfast or visited a hotel. 



604 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXV. 

ROBERT BONNER AND THE NEW 
YORK LEDGER. 

HIS EARLY CAREER. REMOVAL TO NEW YORK. — AN UPWARD STEP. OWNS 

THE LEDGER. — HIS SYSTEM OF ADVERTISING. STRATEGY. THE VALUE 

OF A NAME. BANCROFT AND MR. EVERETT. — MR. BEECHER AND THE 

LEDGER. — BONNER'S HORSES. HIS STABLES. PERSONAL. 

Mr. Bonner was born in the north of Ireland, not far 
from Londonderry, near the spot from which A. T. 
Stewart emigrated. The Scotch Presbyterian blood 
that made General Jackson so famous, and has given 
success to the well-known house of Brown & Brothers, 
runs in the blood of Mr. Bonner. He is simply a 
Scotchman born in Ireland. He was trained under the 
influence of the Shorter Catechism. From the faith of 
his fathers he has never departed. He has been 
trustee for many years in a Scotch Presbyterian 
Church in the upper part of New York, and a liberal 
contributor to the support of public worship and the 
various forms of benevolence and charity. He is a 
conscientious business man, with great resources, with 
fertility of genius unmatched, and with indomitable 
will, untiring industry, and more than all, he possesses 



In New York. 605 

that crowning gift ■ which Solomon possessed as an 
especial patrimony from God — "largeness of heart." 

HIS EARLY CAREER. 

He was distinguished in his boyhood for great manli- 
ness of character, for frank and generous impulses. 
When a boy was wronged or wronglj^ accused, it was 
Bonner's custom to make the quarrel of his school- 
fellow his own. He allowed himself to be turned out 
of school for the part he took in defending a boy 
whom he knew to be innocent. At an early age he 
entered the printing office of the Hartford Courant to 
learn the art of printing. He was dexterous, swift at 
setting tjpe, and led all the workmen in the nimble- 
ness with Avhich he could set up an article. The 
President's Message, in those days, was transmitted by 
mail. The editor of the Courant purchased an ad- 
vanced copy, paj'ing for it the enormous sum of thirty 
dollars! The only advantage to be derived from this 
early copy was in getting the message out in advance 
of other papers. To accomplish this Mr. Bonner per- 
formed the unheard-of feat of setting up seventeen 
hundred ems an hour. He performed all the duties 
connected with his position, became an accomplished 
printer, tried his hand at correspondence, and seated 
himself occasionally in the editorial chair. 

REMOVAL TO NEW YORK. 

In 1844 Mr. Bonner removed to the city of New 
York. There was a popular impression that a literary 
paper could not succeed in this metropolis. Boston 
and Philadelphia monopolized the family newspapers 



GOG ' Sunshine and Shado"? 

and literary weeklies, and it was said that no paper of 
the kind could prosper in this city. Mr. Bonner thonght 
otherwise. He early resolved to attempt a paper that 
should he circulated throuo^hout the whole land. He 
watched his opportunity and bided his time, working 
hard in the mean while, and not being dainty in the 
place or style of business in which he engaged. Mayor 
Harper had been elected as the American candidate. 
A paper called the "American Republican" was the 
oi'gan • of the party. In this office Mr. Bonner com- 
menced his New York career, The wages paid him 
were small. His work was hard, and economy was 
requisite to enable him to live. He formed the habit, 
from which he has never departed, of buying nothing 
that he could not pay for. He never borrowed a dol- 
lar of money, never signed a note in his life, and now 
carries on his great business on strictly cash principles, 
and literally owes no man anything. In some of his 
large enterprises he has paid his last dollar, and 
never has once failed in the venture he made. In 
some of his great advertising feats, in which he has 
paid as high as twenty-five thousand dollars a week 
for advertising, he has been offered lines of papers to 
increase the advertisement to fifty thousand dollars, 
with unlimited credit, and his answer has invariably 
been, " I cannot advertise beyond my means. I have 
no more money to spend in that way." The whole 
business of the Ledger is conducted on the same 
principle to-day. 



In New York. 607 



AN UPWARD STEP. 

The " Eepublican " was an evanescent affair, and 
Mr. Bonner found permanent employment on the 
" Evening Mirror " as a practical printer. This paper 
was conducted b}* Morris, Willis, and Fuller. It was 
Mr, Fuller's business to make up the paper. It was 
very desirable to display the advertisements, and do it 
in good taste. In this department Mr, Bonner excelled. 
The whole matter was soon left in his hands. He had 
an eye for beauty, and the Mirror advertisements 
became very famous. There was a small mercantile 
paper in New York, known as the " Merchant's Ledger." 
It was devoted almost entirely to conmiercial matters, 
with a very limited ciiculation, A young man, whose 
business it was to get up advertisements, was struck 
with the elegant manner in which Mr, Bonner made 
up the Mirror. He called the attention of the editor 
of the Ledger to Mr. Bonner's capacity, and this 
culminated in an engagement with Mr, Bonner to 
become the printer of that paper. Mr. Bonner did not 
own the material, but simply printed the sheet. He 
occasionally wrote articles that attracted attention, 
from their terse, compact, and spicy composition. A 
little incident showed Mr. Bonner the value of a name. 
His contributions to the Ledger were very well re- 
ceived. The proprietor had a spice of jealousj' about 
him, and he did not want his energetic and spirited 
printer to get into the editorial chair. Mr, Bonner 
wrote a short, pithy article on a jDopular subject, 
jammed it into a little nook in the paper, and placed 
at the bottom the name of Dr, Chalmers. It took like 



608 Sunshine and Shadow 

wildfire. It was copied into all the prominent papers 
of the land. It taught Mr. Bonner the value of a 
name, — a lesson he has never forgotten. 

OWNS THE LEDGER. 

Shortly after he entered the office, Mr. Bonner pur- 
chased the Ledger. He seated himself in the editorial 
chair, and resolved to realize the visions of his youth. 
He did not change its character at once, but gradually. 
The Ledger became less and less commercial, and more 
and more literary. About this time Fanny Fern was 
creating a great sensation in the literary world. Her 
Ruth Hall had just appeared, and the work and its au- 
thoress were criticised by the press in all parts of the 
land. She was the literary st.ar of the day. The ques- 
tion was violently discussed whether she was or was 
not the sister of N. P. Willis. Mr. Bonner saw his op- 
portunity, and sent a note to Fanny Fern, offering her 
twenty-five dollars a column to write a story for the 
Ledger. She declined the offer. Another proposition 
was sent, offering her fifty dollars a column. That she 
also declined. Seventy-five dollars were offered. That 
she declined, announcing that she did not intend to 
write any more for the newspapers. She admitted that 
she admired Mr. Bonner's pluck. Soon it was inti- 
mated to Mr. Bonner that if he would allow Fanny 
Fern to write a story of ten columns, more or less, 
though the story should not occupy less than nine 
columns of the Ledger, she would undertake it. He 
closed the contract immediately, received the manu- 
script, read six lines, and sent her a check of one thou- 
sand dollars. He resolved, with this story, to introduce 



In New York. 609 

a new era in the Ledger. He changed the form of the 
paper, double-leaded the story, so that it made twenty 
columns in the paper. He advertised it as nothing 
was ever advertised before. He had paid an unheard- 
of sum for a story — one hundred dollars a column. 
The harvest was a golden one. Out of the profits of 
that story Mr. Bonner purchased the pleasant residence 
in this city in which he still lives. 

HIS SYSTEM OF ADVERTISING. 

In the mao;nitude of his advertisimi: Mr. Bonner has 
displayed the remarkable business skill for which he is 
celebrated. The manner of commendins: the Ledo:er to 
the public is wholly his own. When he startled the 
public by his extravagance in taking columns of a daily 
journal, or one entire side, he secured the end he had 
in view. His method of repeating three or four lines, 
such as, — " Fanny Fern writes only for the Ledger " — 
or, "Read Mrs. Southworth's new story in the Ledger" 
— and this repeated over and over and over again, till 
men turned from it in diso-ust, and did not conceal 
their ill-temper, was a system of itself " What is the 
use," said a man to Mr. Bonner, " of your taking the 
whole side of the Herald, and repeating that statement 
a thousand times ? " " Would you have asked me that 
question," replied Mr. Bonner, " if I had inserted it but 
once ? I put it in to attract your attention, and make 
you ask that question." 

Mr. Bonner knows how to reach the public. He 
pays liberally, but intends to have the worth of his 
money. He does not advertise twice alike. The 
newspapers are afraid of him. His advertisements are 

39 



610 Sunshine and Shadow 

so queer and unusual, that when they make a contract 
with him, they have no idea in what shape the ad- 
vertisement will come. Sometimes it is in the shape 
of a fragment of a storj^ ; sometimes the page will be 
nearly blank, with two or three little items in it. In 
his peculiar style of advertising he often gives great 
trouble to the editors of the leading papers. Some- 
times an entire page is almost blank. Sometimes a 
few small advertisements occupy the corner, giving the 
sheet a peculiar appearance, which attracts attention. 
Said an editor, " I had rather publish one of your 
horses in the centre than have such a looking sheet." 
But Mr. Bonner's purpose was answered by one inser- 
tion, and the contract was withdrawn. 

With a manliness and liberality peculiar to Mr. 
Bonner, after one insertion, if the parties are dis- 
satisfied, he always throws up the .contract, however 
benefi,cial it might have proved to him. 

STRATEGY. 

His mode of advertising was new, and it excited 
both astonishment and ridicule. His ruin was predicted 
over and over again. But as he paid as he went along 
he alone would be the sufferer. He was assailed in 
various ways. Men sneered at his writers, as well as 
at the method in which he made them known. He 
had no competition. Just then it was announced that 
the Harpers were to put a first-class Weekly into the 
field. The announcement was hailed with delight by 
many classes. Men who had^been predicting Bonner's 
ruin from the start were anxious to see it accomplished. 



■ 



<■ 



i 

m 



In New York. 611 

He had agents in all the leading cities in the land. 
These held a monopoly of the Ledger. The book-men 
and newspaper-men, who were left out, were quite 
wilHiig to have the Ledger go under. The respecta- 
bility and wealth of the house, its enterprise, with the 
class of writers it could secure, made the new paper a 
dany-erous rival. Mr. Bonner concluded to mjdve the 
first issue serviceable to himself. His paragraph adver- 
tisintr was considered sensational, and smackins; of the 
charlatan. He resolved to make it respectable. He 
wrote a half a column in sensational style — " Buy 
Harper's AVeekly " — "Buy Harper's Weekly" — "Buy 
Harper's Weekly " — " Buy Harper's Weekly " — and 
so on through the half column. Through his advertis- 
ing: atfent he sent this advertisement to the Herald, 
Tribune, and Times, and paid for its insertion. Among 
the astonished readers of this Ledger style of advertis- 
ing were the quiet gentlemen who do business on 
Franklin Square. The community were astonished. 
" The Harpers are waking up ! " " This is the Bonner 
style ! " " This is the way the Ledger man does it ! " 
were heard on all sides. The young Harpers Avere 
congratulated by the book-men everywhere on the 
enterprise with which they were pushing the new 
publication. They said nothing, and took the joke in 
good part. But it settled the respectability of the 
Ledger style of advertising. It is now imitated by the 
leading publishers, insurance men, and most eminent 
dry goods men in the country. The sums spent by 
Mr. Bonner in advertising are perfectly marvellous. 
He never advertises unless he has something new to 
present to the public. He pays from five to twenty- 



612 Sunshine and Shadow 

five thousand dollars a week when he advertises. 
The enormous circulation of the Ledger, — over three 
hundred thousand copies a week, — shows how profitable 
his style of doing business is. Nearly everything he 
does, every horse he buys, or new personal movement 
that distinguishes him, is set down to a desire on his 
part for gratuitous advertising. Of course he has an 
eye to business in whatever he does. But all the ad- 
vertising he wants he is quite ready to pay for. 

THE VALUE OF A NAME. 

The popularity given to a little squib of his own, to 
which the name of Dr. Chalmers was attached, taught 
Mr. Bonner a lesson that he never forgot. Mr. Edward 
Everett had taken upon himself to aid the ladies of 
America in purchasing Mount Vernon. Mr. Bonner 
resolved to secure Mr. Everett as a writer for the 
Ledger. He knew that money could not purchase Mr. 
Everett's connection with his paper. He ofi'ered Mr. 
Everett ten thousand dollars to write a series of arti- 
cles for the Ledger, the money to be appropriated to 
the purchase of the tomb of the father of his country. 
Mr. Everett could do no less than accept. At the con- 
clusion of the Mount Vernon papers Mr. Everett con- 
tinued on the Ledger until his death. Mr. Bonner 
paid him over fifty thousand dollars for services 
rendered on his paper. The notices to correspondents, 
which is a marked feature in the Ledger, contain 
answers to questions sent to the edit6r. Not more 
than one question in five is replied to. Those answers 
are written by the most eminent men in the country. 
Many of them were written by Mr. Everett, Henry 



.i 



In New York. 613 

Ward Beeclier,ancl distiiigulslied statesmen and lawyers. 
The connection between Mr. Bonner and Mr. Everett 
was of the most delicate and tender character, as Mr. 
Everett's confidential letters sufficiently show. 

It was Mr. Bonner's policy to spike every gun tliat 
could be aimed against him, and make every influence 
and every prominent man liis ally. To this end James 
Gordon Bennett of the Herald, Henry J. Raymond of 
the Times, and Horace Greeley of the Tribune, became 
contributors to the Ledger. 

The Ledger was objected to in some quarters as not 
being a suitable sheet for young persons to read. Mr. 
Bonner secured the services of tlie presidents of twelve 
of the principal colleges in this country to write for 
his paper. Of course it would not be improper for the 
young men in colleges to take a paper for which the 
president wrote. Indeed, over the purity of expression 
and chasteness of sentiment and utterance in what ap- 
pears in the Ledger, Mr. Bonner exercises a rigorous 
censorship. There are a great many articles and ad- 
vertisements that appear in rehgious papers that would 
not be admitted into the Ledger. Mr. Bonner gives 
this order : " Take the most pious old lady in a Presby- 
terian Church, and any word or phrase, innuendo or ex- 
pression, that she would want to skip if she were reading 
a Ledger story to her grandchild, strike out." 

Paul Morphy, in the height of his popularity, edited 
a chess column in the Ledger. Bryant, Willis, Ilal- 
leck, Morris, and Saxe laid a poetical wreath at Mr. 
Bonner's feet. Prentice, Bancroft, Parton, and Coz- 
zens joined the galaxy of Ledger writers. Fanny 
Fern, Mrs. Southworth, and other eminent novelists, 



614 Sunshine and Shadow 

furnished the entertaining serials pubhshed bj Mr. 
Bonner. 

BANCROFT AND MR. EVERETT. 

On the death of Mr. Everett, Mr. Bonner enclosed a 
check to Mr. Bancroft, v^^ith a note requesting him to 
prepare a suitable article for the Ledger in commemo- 
ration of the distinguished statesman. The article was 
prepared and sent to Mr. Bonner. It contained no 
allusion to Mr. Everett's connection with the Ledger. 
The article was sent back, and the omission pointed 
out. A sharp correspondence followed, in which Mr. 
Bancroft attempted to establish the propriety of the 
omission. Mr. Bonner refused to receive the article, 
and he finally carried his point, and Mr. Everett's 
connection with the Ledger had a marked place in 
the eulogistic article. 

MR. BEECHER AND THE LEDGER. 

For a long time Mr. Beecher has been a contributor 
to the Ledger. One evenino: Mr. Bonner and his wife 
went over to Plymouth Church to hear the pastor. 
The sermon was on success in life, and was given in 
Mr. Beecher's most vigorous strain. He showed that 
smartness, cuteness, and adroitness would not lead to 
success unless they were combined with energy, a 
knowledge of business, an indomitable perseverance, 
and an integrity which would enable a man to dare to 
do right. If Mr. Beecher had intended to hit Mr. Bon- 
ner's character and success, he could not have come 
nearer to the mark. Mr. Bonner had lacked not one 
of the elements Mr. Beecher had described, and every 
one knew his success. This sermon affected Mr. Bon- 



I 



In New York. 615 

ner in various ways. He was in search of a novelty 
that should captivate and profit the public. Why 
should not Mr. Beecher talk to a million of people 
through the Ledger, as well as to speak to a single 
congregation within the walls of his house ? His ac- 
quaintance with men had been large. His wit and 
fancy were exuberant, and if he would write a story 
for the Ledger he might j^reach in it as much as he 
pleased, put money in his purse, and benefit the youth 
of the country. 

While Mr. Beecher was attendim*; a council in his 
own church, a letter was put into his hands. He had 
had no conversation with Mr. Bonner about writing a 
story. Tlie letter contained a proposal that Mr. 
Beecher should write a serial for the Ledger, and 
named the price which wonld be paid for it, which was 
perfectly astounding. " Miracles will never cease," 
said Mr. Beecher, in his note replying to the proposal. 
Norwood appeared, and the increased circulation of 
the Ledger immediately reimbursed Mr. Bonner for 
his extraordinary outlay. The story was longer than 
was expected, and an addition was made to the price 
agreed npon. In this wvay the editor of the Ledger 
treats all his first-class writers. He is generous in his 
jDroposals, and does more than he agrees. 

bonner's horses. 

When a printing boy, Bonner's rule was to be the 
first boy in the office. When he was a printer, he 
allowed no one to excel him in the swiftness with 
which he set type, and in his ability as a workman. 
When he purchased the Ledger he intended to make 



G16 Sunshine and Shadow 

it the foremost paper in the country. He resolved to 
own tlie most celebrated and fastest horses in the 
world. And his stud, which are kept in his stables on 
Twenty-seventh Street, are without rivals. His horses 
are seven in number. " Lantern " is a bay, fifteen and 
a hatf hands high, with long tail, mild, clear eye, white 
hind feet, and white streak on his face. He is very 
fleet, having made a mile in 2.20. " Peerless " is a gray 
mare, about fifteen and a half hands high, with a long 
white tail, clean limbed, and gentle. She has made the 
fastest time on record to a wagon, trotting her mile in 
2.23j. She is so gentle that she is used in the country 
by the ladies of Mr. Bonner's fomily. " Flatbush Mare " 
is a double teamster, and with " Lady Palmer," in double 
harness, has made the ftistest time ever trotted in a 
two mile heat to a road wagon, — 5.0L}. She is fifteen 
and a half hands high. The other is a chestnut sorrel, 
about the same size. She has a fine head, and is very 
synmietrical. Besides her famous time with " Flatbush 
Mare," she has trotted two miles, to a three hundred 
and sixteen pound wagon and driver, in 4.59, — the 
greatest feat of the kind ever performed. " Pocahontas" 
is the handsomest trotter and the most perfectly formed 
horse in the world. She stands about fifteen hands, is 
a dark, rich bay, has a very fine head, proudly-arched 
nostrils, and a tail sweeping the ground for four inches, 
on which she frequently treads while standing. When 
six years old this splendid animal trotted in 2.23, and 
has made better thne since she came into Mr. Bonner's 
hands. The " Auburn Horse " is sorrel, and of enor- 
mous size, being sixteen and a half hands, with four 
white feet and white face, pronounced by Hiram 



In New York. G17 

Woodruff to be the fastest horse he ever drove. The 
champion of the turf is " Dexter," with sinewy form, 
and joints like a greyhound, compactly built, dark 
brown in color, wdth four white feet, and a white nose 
and streak, a bright clear eye, and a flowing tail. He 
has made a mile in 2.1 Tj in harness, and 2.1*8 to 
saddle. The turf annals of the world present no 
parallel to this, Mr. Bonner buys his horses for his 
own pleasure, lie drives them himself, and is one of 
the best horsemen in the country. He will not allow 
his horses to be used for show or for gain. He races 
with nobody, and bets with nobody. If any team 
can make faster time than his, driven by the owner, 
ten thousand dollars are deposited, and that owner 
may apply that sum to any benevolent cause that he 
pleases. Millionnaires gnash their teeth as Bonner 
drives by them. There are horsemen in New York who 
would give twenty-five thousand dollars for a pair of 
horses that would make Bonner take their dust. If 
Bonner's team is beaten, the owner must do as he does, 
drive it himself Of the speed of his horses he is his 
own judge. lie will buy anything that will beat the 
world. When a horse is presented to him for trial, he 
appears in full riding costume, with gloves, whip, and 
watch in hand. Pie does not allow the owner to 
handle the ribbons. 

HIS STABLES. 

Mr. Bonner's stables are located on Tw^enty-seventh 
Street. The building is a plain brick one, with every- 
thing for convenience and comfort, and nothing for 
show. The front part contains the carriage-house, liar- 



618 Sunshine and Shadow 

ness-room, wash-house, and the place where the feed is 
mixed. In the rear are the stables. Dexter and 
Peerless have box-stalls, and are never tied. The other 
horses are in ordinary stalls. Three persons are em- 
ployed constantly to take care of the horses. Within 
the enclosure, but outside of the stables, is a track 
covered with tan bark, on which the horses are dail}'^ 
exercised, one hour in the morning and in the evening. 
The horses are fed four times a day, at six, nine, one, 
and nine at night. A small allowance of hay is given 
once a day. After eating they are muzzled, to prevent 
them from devouring their bedding, and they are kept 
muzzled all niiz-ht. In the winter Mr. Bonner drives 
but one horse at a time, and usually the Auburn Horse. 
Dexter and the other fleet horses are seldom used in 
the winter, but are reserved for fast trotting in the 
spring. Great care is taken of the feet of the horses. 
To this Mr. Bonner gives personal attention. He has 
mastered the subject, as he has newspaper business. 
He has a theory of his own, which has proved eminent- 
ly successful in the treatment of his own horses, and 
has enabled him to remove the lameness from the 
valuable horses of his neighbors and friends. The idea 
that the speed to which these horses are put is a 
damao;e to them is as fjxllacious as it is to assert that it 
hurts an eight-mile-an-hour horse to drive him at that 
speed. Some of these fiist horses Mr. Bonner has 
owned many years. They are faster now than when 
he bought them. Lantern is nineteen years old, and is 
as sound and fleet as when he was ten. The men who 
have charge of these horses are as careful and tender 
of them as is a kind nurse of a child. In the stable 



I 

I 

I 

L 



In New York. 619 

tliere is every convenience imaginable that a horse can 
require, — tools for fitting shoes, grooming the animals, 
making the wagons safe, with medicines, and all the 
appliances of a lirst-class stable. The horses are said to 
have cost Mr. Bonner over two hundred thousand dol- 
lars. They could not be bought for double that sum. 

PERSONAL. 

There is a frank, hearty manliness about Mr. Bonner 
which binds his friends to him. The eminent men 
who have written for his paper form attachments to 
him that death only severs. Mr. Everett conceived a 
warm and glowing regard for him that was foreign to 
his cold nature. His manuscript oration on Washing- 
ton, elegantly bound, he sent as a token of his personal 
regard to the editor of the Ledger. Mr, Bonner's office 
is a curiosity. It is a workshop, plainly furnished. His 
table is loaded down with letters, manuscripts, and doc- 
uments. What is confusion to others is order to him. 
The systefn with which he conducts his business is per- 
fect. Any letter that he wants, or any number of 
the Ledger containing a given article, is produced at 
once. No man attends more closelv to his business, or 
spends more hours in his office. Nothing goes into the 
Ledger without his supervision; and the sharp, crisp 
editorials, always compact, and often keen as a two- 
edged sword, are from his own pen. His • office is 
adorned with likenesses of his prominent contributors 
and his celebrated horses. Horseshoes, and the para- 
phernalia of fast driving, lie around. He has made the 
horse his study for years, and has a better knowledge 
of a horse's foot than any surgeon in the world. Mr. 



620 Sunshine and Shadow 

Bonner is in the prime of life. He is short, thick-set, 
and compactly built. His hair is sandy, his complexion 
florid, his forehead high and intellectual, his eye 
jDiercing, and his whole manner frank, genial, and 
buoyant. He does nothing for show. He lives com- 
fortably, but without ostentation, in a plain brick house. 
His wagons are in the usual style, made substantially. 
His country seat, at Morrisania, is elegant and com- 
modious, about which there is no tinsel nor dash. He 
is a fine specimen of what good principles, excellent 
physical culture, perseverance, and industry can do for 
a man. The position he now occupies he looked to 
when he was a printer's lad in the office of the old 
Courant. He attempted no eccentric things, sought for 
no short cross-paths to success. He mastered his trade 
as a printer patiently and perfectly. He earned every 
position before he assumed it, and earned his money 
before he spent it. In New York he was preferred 
because he did his work better than others. He was 
truthful, sober, honest, and industrious. If lie took a 
job, he finished it at the time and in the manner agreed 
upon. He borrowed no money, incurred no debts, and 
suffered no embarrassments. In some of his great 
enterprises he put up every dollar that he had in the 
world. If he lost, he alone would suffer ; and he knew 
he could go to work and earn his living. He has 
never allowed the Ledger to be so dependent on one 
man, or on one set of men, that it could not go on suc- 
cessfully if each should leave. The Ledger is now the 
most prominent and popular publication in the world. 
It is without a rival in the ability with which it is con- 
ducted, and in its circulation. To the list of old writers 



In New York. 621 

new and attractive names are daily added. Mr. 
Bonner's great wealth, which he has honestly and 
fairly earned, enables him to command any attractive 
feature for his paper that he may select. Mr. Bonner 
is one of the most remarkable men of the ao-o — the 
architect of his own fortune, a prompt, straightforward, 
and honest business man, with energy to push that 
business to success. A perfect master of his calling, 
and successful in everything he has undertaken, he is 
a worthy model for the young men of America. 



622 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXVI. 

ANDREW V. STOUT, PRESIDENT OF 
SHOE AND LEATHER BANK. 

HIS EARLY LIFE. — HIS TACT. CONNECTION WITH THE PUBLIC SCHOOL. A 

CRASH. BUSINESS PRINCIPLE. — BECOMES A MERCHANT. HIS CONNEC- 
TION WITH THE BANK. — PERSONAL. 

Mr. Stout's career is a remarkable instance of busi- 
ness success. As a man of high-toned principle and 
integrity, an honest, careful, and successful financier, he 
has no superior. There are few bank presidents who 
have been in office as long. He has filled many 
important offices, and has presided over the Shoe and* 
Leather Bank for nearly sixteen years. No one ever 
lost a dollar by him ; and he can say, now that he has 
reached the age of fifty-five years, that he never failed 
to pay a note at maturity, and never made a business 
obligation that he did not meet promptly at the time. 

HIS EARLY LIFE. 

He was born in the city of New York, at No. 6 
Pump Street, better known to-day as Canal. He was 
thrown on his own resources at an early age. By in- ^. 
dustry and hard study he acquired a good English 
education. At twelve years of age he not only took 



In New York. 623 

upon himself his own support, but that of his relatives. 
He was a manly hoy, mature beyond his years, and 
always considered much older than he was. At four- 
teen years of age he received an appointment in one 
of the public schools of the city, no one dreaming that 
lie was a mere lad. He was very successful as a 
teacher, and at sixteen received the appointment of 
assistant principal in Shepherd Johnson's school, one 
of the most popular of the city. 

niS TACT. 

Mr. Stout was blessed with a hopeful disposition, was 
full of pluck, and ambitious. He mastered everything 
he laid his hands to. He had a mother and sister who 
leaned on him for counsel and help. He resolutely 
formed the purpose of not only getting a living, but 
of making mone}-, and making it fairly, guiding all 
his measures by high moral principle. He kept a 
sharp eye for every opening, was not afraid of the 
hardest kind of work, and felt justified in availing him- 
self of every step that could carry him higher. He 
studied harder than his pupils, and what he did not 
know to-day he knew to-morrow. It was Walpole's 
theory, that a man is competent to fill any ofiice that 
he can get. Mr. Stout, w^ithout knowing what Walpole 
had said, acted on that theor}^ An opening presented 
itself to him that illustrates this trait in his character. 
When he was sixteen he passed for twenty. Being an 
excellent English scholar, it was concluded, of course, 
that he Avas a graduate. He was appointed to take 
charge of a class in Latin, of which language he knew 
nothing. But he wanted the position and the emolu- 



624 Sunshine and Shadow 

ment. He accepted the post without hesitation, and 
went to work at once to prepare himself. He hired a 
private tutor, passed liis nights in severe study, and 
kept aliead of his class in all the lessons. Sometimes 
scholars would bother him with questions that he could 
not answer. In such cases he raised another issue, 
beat the inquirer off for the time being, and was ready 
the next morning. His class was admitted to be one 
of the best drilled and thoroughly taught in Latin that 
ever graduated from that school. Mr. Stout came fresh 
to his scholars every morning, had the enthusiasm of a 
new beginner, the ambition and pride of scholarly 
repute, and he made his class both learn and under- 
stand. 

CONNECTION WITH THE PUBLIC SCHOOL. 

At eighteen years of age he was appointed principal 
of Public School No. 2 of this city. He rode in from 
Bushwick every morning, and devoted the intermission 
to business. For six years he rose every morning at 
four o'clock, and worked in his garden till seven. On 
his return from school he resumed his work. His even- 
ings were passed in study and in business. Not con- 
tent, with this, in connection with a relative who was a 
builder, he contracted to erect several houses on East 
Broadway, then a fashionable locality. In this he was 
very successful, and before he was twenty years of age 
he was worth seventeen thousand dollars. 

A CRASH. 

It was not usual in those days to do business on the 
cash principle. Mr. Stout was reputed to be a rich 
man. He minded his own business and kept his own 



I 



In New York. 625 

counsel. He clashed in and ont of New York, and was 
known on the road as the -%ing man/' Ili.s business 
repute was high. He met every contract that he made, 
and took up all his paper as it matured, and said nothing, 
and everybody believed he was rich. His moral and 
social characteristics added to his business repute. Ho 
was a decided and earnest Christian. In the prosperity 
of the little Methodist Church near him he took great 
interest. He was not afraid to turn his hand to'^any- 
thing that was needed to promote its welfare. He took 
care of its finances, and they prospered. No debt was 
allowed to accrue, nobody was behindhand in pay- 
ments. At times Mr. Stout was sexton, pew-opener, 
trustee, collector, class-leader, leader of the choir, and 
preacher. His note was good anywhere. It was not 
necessary for him to pay a dollar of money on the 
houses that he built. He gave his notes on the con- 
tracts, and paid them at maturity. One day he was 
induced to indorse a note for five thousand dollars to 
get money from the bank. The indorsement was given 
with reluctance, and with the understanding that it 
should not be repeated. To save that five thousand 
dollars, indorsements grew till they reached twenty- 
three thousand dollars. The builder, whose notes he 
indorsed, announced to Mr. Stout one morning that he 
had failed, and head made no provision for the paper, 
and that the bank would look to him for payment. 

BUSINESS PRINCIPLE, 

Several methods of relief were open to Mr. Stout. 
He was worth seventeen thousand dollars, which he had 
earned by nights of toil, by economy, and by daily and 

40 



626 Sunshine and Shadow 

earnest attention to business. To pay the notes would 
not only sweep away every penny that he had, but 
leave him six thousand dollars in debt. He had never 
realized one cent from the money, and his name was 
used simply to accommodate the builder. Besides, he 
was not of age, though nobody suspected that fact, and 
he could repudiate his debts as an infant. He took no 
counsel, made no statement of his affairs to any one, 
shut himself up in his own room and considered 
thouglitfully what he should do, and then followed out 
the decision that he had reached. Having become 
bankrupt in money, he concluded he would not be in 
diaracter. He had earned seventeen thousand dollars, 
and he could earn seventeen thousand dollars more. 
He did confide in one friend. He went to a relative 
and asked him to loan him six thousand dollars, the 
sum necessary to take up all the notes. The relative 
was astonished at the request, and insisted upon know- 
ing the facts in the case. Mr. Stout made a full and 
frank statement. It was met with the remark, '• Well, 
Andrew, I thought you would be a rich man ; but if 
this is the way you do business, you will never be 
worth anything." But Mr. Stout did not want preach- 
ing, he wanted money; and as the relative seemed to 
hesitate about loaning the money, as no security was 
offered, Mr. Stout curtly told him he could do as he 
pleased about it ; he could get the money somewhere, 
and pay the notes. The money was promised, and he 
went on his way. 

The bank watched the young financier with a great 
deal of interest. The whole matter had been discussed 
often in the bank, and the wonder was, how young 



In New York. 627 

Stout would moet the blow. It was supposed that he 
would ask for au extension ; and it was agreed to give 
it to him, and to make the time of payment convenient" 
to his abilit}'. Had he proposed to compromise the 
matter by paying one half, the bank would have 
accepted it. That would have left him a capital of 
nearly eight thousand dollars for a fresh start. Had 
he offered his seventeen thousand dollars, on condition 
that he was released from all liability, the notes would 
have been cancelled wdtli alacrity. He did neither. 
He proposed no compromise, asked no extension, and 
attempted to negotiate no settlement. When the first 
note became due, he paid it. He did the same with the 
second and third. After the third payment, he was 
called into the office of the president. Eeference was 
made to the notes, and to the fact that he had obtained 
no benefit from the money. The president told him 
the bank was ready to renew the notes, and to give him 
any accommodation that he might ask. Mr. Stout 
simply replied, that the blow was a heavy one, but 
that, bavins; assumed the obli^'-ation, he should dis- 
charge it ; that he asked no flivors, and as the notes 
matured he should take them up. He paid every dol- 
lar due, and every one was certain that his wealth must 
be very large. His manliness, pluck, and integrity, 
which carried him through that crisis, became the sure 
foundation-stone on which his great fortune was laid. 
He took the front rank amons; successful financiers, and 
his honorable course in that crisis established his llime 
as an honest man, in whom it would be safe to confide. 
Years of earnest and active business life have not 
changed that character, nor allowed a blot or stain to 
cloud that reputation. 



628 Sunshine and Shadow 



BECOMES A MERCHANT. 

In the department of dry goods, and in the whole- 
sale boot and shoe trade, Mr. Stont found his first 
jDermanent success. He had great financial talent, and 
with all his partners he reserved to himself the right 
to decide on credits. He gave his entire personal 
attention to his business. Like Stewart, he found his 
recreation in work. Nobody came so early that he 
did not find Mr. Stout at his post. lie did not leave 
till the business was done and the store closed. His 
hours were from seven in the mornino: till six at niLrht. 
Four months in the year he worked till ten and twelve 
at night, and often till four o'clock in the morning, yet 
would be at his post at seven, as usual. All who 
worked after six o'clock were paid double wages. But 
Mr. Stout always remained with them, no matter how 
late they worked. If sagacity and prudence, hard 
w'ork and close attention to business, high moral char- 
acter and great financial ability, lead to fortune, then 
Mr. Stout must have accumulated a handsome capital. 

HIS connection with the BANK. 

An attempt was made to get up a bank in which the 
shoe and leather interest should have a large representa- 
tion. In this movement Mr. Stout was very active ; 
and when the Shoe and Leather Bank was incorj^orated 
he was the largest stockholder, became a director, and 
an influential manager. On the second year he was 
made vice-president, and had really all the duties of 
the president to perform. The third year he was 
elected president, and for fourteen years has had the 



In New York. 629 

manao^oment of that institution. He has guided it 
•with a financial skill unsurpassed, and the value of the 
stock shows how^ profitable that management has been. 
No voice is more potential in banking matters than 
Mr. Stout's. His judgment is reliable ; he is far-seeing 
and safe in his measures. He was city chamberlain, 
and wdiile in that position there was some trouble about 
paying the police. Mr. Stout advanced the full sum 
necessary out of his private funds. He thus relieved 
the embarrassment of the force, and received a splendid 
testimonial, which now adorns his parlors. 

PERSONAL. 

Since he formed the resolution to meet the notes he 
had indorsed, which was so heavy a blow to him in his 
early life, his' career has been an upward one. In 
every relation of life he has occupied the front rank. 
He is the guardian of widows and orphans, and holds 
a large amount of trust money, every one feeling 
assured that funds in his hands are safe. His char- 
acteristics are promptness, unbending honesty, and 
punctuality. Not only has he never failed to meet a 
pecuniary obligation during the long term of his 
financial career, but he carries this principle into the 
minutest relations of life. In his family his breakfast 
bell rings at exactly the same time, and does not vary 
five minutes in a year, and dinner delays for no one. 
He has been a church officer since he was a lad. He is 
always on time at the smallest meeting. The finances 
of the church are kept with the exactness of a bank. 
The sexton, minister, and all are paid promptly on the 
time. His bank board meets to a second. The board 



630 Sunshine and Shadow 

is called to order promptly on the instant. Each 
director has three dollars a day for every board meet- 
ing. When the gavel of the president falls, if one of the 
directors is at the threshold of the inner door, but has 
not crossed it, he gets no pay. In his family Mr. Stout 
is one of the most indulgent of fathers. He is a genial, 
social, and high-toned friend. He is one of the most 
entertaining hosts, and a welcome visitor. His wealth, 
accumulated by shrewdness, integrity, and toil, he dis- 
tributes with great liberality. From his early life he 
has identified himself with religion, humanity, and the 
benevolent operations of the clay. He is a good speci- 
men of what New York can do for a resolute, manly 
boy, who, with high moral principle, unbending in- 
tegrity, and indomitable pluck, resolves to place his 
name among the successful and true men of the land. 



In New York. 631 



LXXVII. 

JOHN ALLEN'S DANCE-HOUSE. 

LOCATION. A VISIT TO THE DANCE-HOUSE. AN INSIDE VIEW. — A TALK 

AVITII ALLEN. RELIGIOUS SEKVICES. ALLEN VS. SATAN. 

In another place I have alluclecl to the dance-cellars 
and halls in Water Street. There is one that deserves 
special mention. It is kept by John Allen, one of the 
most notorious men in the city. He is well educated, 
a man of fine presence, below fifty years of age, a tall, 
slim, wiry fellow, sharp and keen. 

LOCATION. 

I visited this establishment the other day. It is a 
fine brick building, very large and capacious, and he 
prides himself upon it as the model establishment of 
the city. It stands like a palace among the rookeries 
of lower New York. Allen himself was, at one time, a 
professedly religious man. He was designed for the 
ministry, and, it is said, was a student in the Union 
Theological Seminary. He has brothers in the ministry, 
and his nephews are educated by himself for the sacred 
calling. He began life poor, and is now said to be 
worth a hundred thousand dollars. 



632 Sunshine and Shadow 



A VISIT TO THE DANCE-HOUSE. 

In company with a friend, I made a visit to this 
dance-house, for the purpose of a personal interview 
with Alien. He is very fond of company, and is proud 
to have his establishment visited by a minister or a 
Christian. My friend was quite well acquainted with 
Allen, and introduced me. He immediately seized his 
Bible, which lay on the counter, surrounded by half a 
dozen religious newspapers, garnished with decanters 
and glasses. He is a tonguey man, and argued for half 
an hour, intermin<!:ling- with his reli(j:ious conversation 
the obscene and peculiar phraseology by which his 
establishment is kept up ; shouting to the jaded and 
lagging girls to keep to their work ; heaping impreca- 
tions, invectives, and curses upon them, and all the 
while holdino' to the thread of his aracument. 

AN INSIDE VIEAV. 

About twenty girls make up the establishment. 
They are dressed in a uniform peculiar to themselves. 
They wear flashy costumes, scarlet and other gay 
colors, short dresses, red topped boots, with bells 
aflixed to the ankles. They sit on benches waiting for 
company, or are grouped in whirling dances. A small 
orchestra is in attendance, to the music of which the 
dance goes on. A shght fee is demanded for admit- 
tance, but the concern is supported by the immense 
bar, which is often insufficient to supply the demands 
of the thirsty crowd. Every one who enters is ex- 
pected to dance, and to treat some female of the 
establishment. After each dance all the parties on the 



In New York. 633 

floor go up and drink at the expense of the men. If 
parties neither dance nor drink, they are ordered out. 
Allen needs no policeman to assist him in clearing his 
estahlishment. He is a lithe, Aviry pugilist, and can 
clear his establishment single-handed ^vhen he pleases. 
Sailors in from a long cruise, boatmen, longshoremen, 
captains, countrymen, patronize the house. The girls 
are mostly foreigners, of the lowest order, and come 
from the lowest stews and their downward career 
is well nigh ended. 

A TALK WITH ALLEN. 

He admitted that he was at war with society, and 
society with him. He went into the business, he said, 
to make money, and he had made a fortune. He does 
not hide his bitterness that society now will not 
receive him back. He talks about his children, his 
brothers, his nephews, and what he does for benev- 
olent causes. He has several religious papers, to which 
he is particularly attached. Any one who chooses may 
read them, and tracts and religious reading are at the 
service of any who have a taste that way. 

RELIGIOUS SERVICES. 

The room opens at about eight, and the pastimes 
close at about twelve. Fifty would be a large crowd 
for the rooms; but as company is coming and going all 
the evening, several hundreds partake of the rude fun, 
among whom are boys and girls below twelve years 
of age. The atmosphere reeks with blaspllem3^ The 
women are driven to their work by imprecations, and 
often by blows, from their taskmaster. Many of them 



634 Sunshine and Shadow 

came from good homes, left their coimtry residences, 
and began a gay hfe without imagining where it would 
end. Brazen, sore-eyed, filthy, the mere scum of life, 
they remain here a short time, are then kicked on to 
the sidewalk, and are sent to the Island to die. Yet 
even here religious service is sometimes held. Allen is 
W'illing that any Christian should talk to his girls, and 
even an exhortation is not objected to. If any wish to 
leave, he will clear them out with an oath. 

One of our earnest mission men told me that, being 
in the dance-room one night, he proposed to hold a 
prayer-meeting. After several songs had been sung, 
notwithstanding the protest of the proprietor that he 
would not have a prayer in his establishment, or that 
he would not hear it, a prayer-meeting was held. Some 
of the girls knelt on the floor, while others bowed their 
heads. Many announced their desire to leave their 
miserable employment and get an honest living, but 
said that nobody would employ them ; that they could 
get nothing to do. If they got a place, they would be 
found out and sent away, and that they must remain 
with Allen or starve. And this is but a type of lower 
New York life — full of sin, full of shame, fall of sor- 
row, full of sufiering, full of repentance and remorse, 
without relief, and without hope. Were Satan to be 
personified, Allen would be a good specimen. 



In Neav York. 635 



LXXVIII. 

NEW YORK DAILY PRESS. 

ITS POWER, -sr NEW YORK TIMES : MR. RAYMOND. THE EVENING POST : MR. 

BRYANT, PARK GODAVIN. THE PECULIARITIES OF THE POST. — THE NEW 

YORK WORLD : ITS ORIGIN, RELIGIOUS BASIS, ITS EDITORS AND CON- 
DUCTORS. 

ITS POWER. 

The daily press of the city is an immense power. It 
is felt in all parts of the land. The shrewdest capital- 
ists invest in the stock. The Herald, Tribune, and 
Times pay over seventy-five per cent, on the invest- 
ment. A share of the stock can scarcely be bouiiht at 
any price. Men who do not sympathize witli the 
politics of the paper have no objection to pocket the 
dividends. Our leading papers secure the most costly 
sites, and on them erect the most costly edifices that 
adorn the city. However elegant the building may be, 
the editorial rooms exhibit the clutter and soil that 
attend the conducting of a daily newspaper. In these 
dingy rooms, np towards the sky, in a lofty building, 
will be found the ablest talent in the land — the sharp- 
est pens and the ablest writers, the keenest ability, 
blended with learning, wit, and power. The fascinar 



636 Sunshine and Shadow 

tion of the press in New York has drawn the most 
eloquent preachers from the pulpit. Lawyers, with a 
large and lucrative practice, have thrown up their briefs 
for the excitement of the political arena. Poets, whose 
names will live in song while the Enghsh language 
shall endure, have hung their harps on the willows to 
accept the editorial chair of a city paper. Professors 
in colleges, doctors in medicine, actors, and literary 
men of all degrees, acknowledge the power of the 
press, and prefer its labor to distinguished honors 
elsewhere. 

The press is a magic word. It runs the guard. It 
breaks through the lines of police. It ascends plat- 
forms and scaffolds. It opens places of amusement and 
galleries of art. It commands a plate at a twenty dol- 
lar dinner. It brings obsequious authors and proud 
capitalists into its dingy sanctum. It invades the 
privacy of aristocratic life. It enters balls, soirees, and 
brilliant saloons, where the elite assemble, and " our 
set " entertain. To one fairly entitled to it, the " New 
York Press " will carry a man round the globe. It 
influences all departments of trade. Men read its 
columns in the morning before they buy, or sell, or 
transact business. An author trembles for his bantling 
till the press has spoken. Its united voice will make 
his fortune. Its ban is his ruin. A new artist or 
actor cannot tell by the applause of the evening how 
he stands in public favor. The morning papers will 
decide that. A new performance, applauded or hissed, 
is not a success or a failure until the press has si3oken. 
The editors of the city could destroy the season qf any 
manager. Philippics from the pulpit and thunders from 



In New York. 637 

the forum against an objectionable play will probal)ly 
send all New York to see it. If the manager took any 
notice of the attack, he would send a season ticket to 
the gentleman who gave him notoriety. A small 
paragraph in a daily paper adverse to an artist, or 
attacking a man, will bring the parties at once to the 
editorial rooms. So conscious are men of this power, 
that when they wish to be kept before the people, 
knowing that their speeches will fall dead with the utter- 
ance, they write them out beforehand, and send them 
to the press interlined with greenbacks. Every politi- 
cal party, religious denomination, and distinct interest 
that wishes to succeed, establishes an organ. In New 
York a man's talent, social position, eloquence, and 
capital avail but little unless he is backed by the press. 
Politics aside, the press is eminently fair and honorable 
in its treatment of public men. Every phase of religion 
and benevolence has a fair hearing. The industry of 
the representatives of this great power is wonderful. 
MeetinQ:s cannot be too numerous for them to notice. 
The orator who closes his after-dinner speech at mid- 
night will find himself accurately reported in the paper 
that he reads at his breakfast-table. 

THE NEW YORK TIMES. 

This paper was started by Henry J. Raymond, who is 
the editor-in-chief It is now owned by a stock company. 
Untold sums of money were sunk before it became a 
success. The heaviest capitalists in the city are among 
its owners. Its dividends are very large. Next to the 
Herald and Tribune, it is probably the best paying 
paper in America. It is conducted with marked ability, 



638 Sunshine and Shadow 

and to Mr. Raymond's indomitable industry, tact, and 
talent its success is greatly due. He began his career 
by holding the humblest positions in connection with 
the newspaper. He was reporter and writer of small 
paragraphs. He has now absolute control over the 
personal, literary, and political departments of the 
Times. He writes much, from the elaborate leaders to 
the spicy minor topics which grace the columns of the 
Times. He began poor enough. He has amassed a 
fortune, but remits none of his industry. He reaches 
the ofhce between twelve and one daily. One hour he 
devotes to the counting-room, looking after financial 
matters. He then passes up to his own room, which 
faces the Park, and is located in the upper part of 
the commodious Times Building. He looks carefully 
through the correspondence, reads his letters, runs 
over the left-over proofs, writes on foreign affairs, 
works till four o'clock, and then is off. Occasionally 
he comes down again at night, and remains till one 
o'clock. His connection with Mr. Seward and other 
prominent men makes him authority on political af- 
fairs. Eminent bankers, interested in the Times, post 
him on finance. 

Mr. Raymond is about fifty years of age, looking 
scarcely forty. He is below the medium height, thick- 
set, with a very marked countenance, and a presence 
that does not do justice to his abilities. He is a very 
popular and effective orator. He is very fond of social 
life, is often at places of entertainment, drives a neat 
span of bays in the Park, and is pleased with the com- 
pany of men younger than himself. He is very 
decidedly flishionable in his dress, and sports an eye- 



In New York. 639 

glass and a small gokl-heaclecl cane. But he is every- 
where a gentleman, and in nothing does this charaoter- 
istic come out more fully than in his intercourse with 
subordinates, whom he always treats with marked con- 
sideration and courtesy. 

The force that surrounds Mr. Eaymond is able. Mr. 
Shepherd w^'ites many of the editorials. Morrison, a 
Canadian, writes much on our colonial relations. John 
Swinton prepares many of the minor topics. Still man 
C. Conant is the managing editor. Besides making up 
the paper, he does the art notices, and writes the 
reviews of books. Henry Winson is city editor, and 
Governier Carr is nia'ht editor. The nit^-ht mails and 
telegrams are nnder the charge of Cliff Thompson and 
J. H. Thompson. Cymon, the very capable and able 
Washington correspondent, is L. L. Crownse. James L. 
Swayne is the sharp, keen Albany correspondent; Lio. 
Jennings, of the London Times, and Dr. Thompson, 
write letters from abroad. Charles B. Seamore is the 
musical critic, and Augustus Dale the dramatic. John 
Webb is the librarian and indexer. Podgers is Mr. 
Ogden; Rodd is Roger Conant. 

Joseph Howard, Jr., well known as Howard of the 
Times, connected himself with this paper in 1800. His 
remarkable letters on the presidential conventions, 
and on the reception given to the Prince of Wales, 
made his name widely known in all parts of the land. 
His telegraph bills in relation to the prince's tour were 
seven thousand dollars in fourteen weeks. He stands 
nnquestioned among the first letter-w^riters of the age. 
He enjoyed tlie confidential friendship of President 
Lincoln, and was intimate with him in the White 



640 Sunshine and Shadow 

House while in lyasbington. His famous " Proclama- 
tion," which gained for him such notoriety, as well as a 
temporary residence in Fort Lafayette, was not under- 
stood. It was intended as a burlesque on the never- 
ending and never-availing proclamations from head- 
quarters, and the author was rather surprised at the 
fidelity of his prediction. Released from Fort Lafayette, 
Mr. Howard had to ascertain how he stood professional- 
ly, politically, and socially. The government appointed 
him official recorder to the headquarters. Department 
of the East. He assumed his old place on the Times, 
and remained there until he took full charge of the 
Brooklyn Eagle. His versatility in writing is very 
great. He is connected with all sorts of papers, and 
writes over every imaginable signature. When the 
pompously solemn Drum Beat was published, as the 
organ of the Sanitary Fair, Howard wrote a burlesque 
that silenced the Drum Beat, under the flicetious 
signature of "Dead Beat." He is a dramatic critic 
of the first order. 

THE EVENING POST. 

William C. Bryant contributes his name to the 
paper. Tliough editor-in-chief, he pays but little at- 
tention to what appears in its columns. Park Godwin 
is the principal owner, and controls the paper. He 
writes a great deal. Charles Nordhoff furnishes many 
articles for the paper, and held Mr. Godwin's place 
while he was in Europe. The managing editor, who 
prepares the correspondence and works up the city 
news, is Aug. Maverick. The business man is Isaac 



In New York. G41 

Henderson. The peculiarities of the Post are, tliat 
each editor controls his own department, and has a 
share in the annual profits of the paper. 

THE NEW YORK WORLD. 

This paper, now the leading Democratic organ of 
the cit}-, was started as a religious paper. The in- 
tention was to have the whole drift of it evanti:el- 
ical, and to admit no advertisements that were ques- 
tionable in their character, or favored theatres, liquor 
saloons, or anything that was not strictl}^ moral or 
religious. The paper originated with Rev. Dr. McClin- 
tock, then pastor of St. Paul's Methodist Cliurch in 
this city. The wealthy Christian men of New York 
were stockholders. The names of Drew", Stout, Cor- 
nell, and other w^ealthy bankers, were among the 
subscribers to the oriirinal stock. Pious men sat in 

O 

the editorial chairs. Pious reporters scoured the city^ 
for news fitting to be read at a Christian breakfast- 
table. Men undertook to do the business of the con- 
cern wdio can manage a prayer-meeting better than 
they can run a news office. The entire capital 
stock was soon swallowed up. With undaunted cour- 
a2:e the oritrinal stockholders subscribed over again. 
On the basis proposed, the thing w-as a failure. After 
sinking over three liundred thousand dollars, the pa- 
per w\as passed over to the present owners. The 
ostensible proprietor of the World is Man ton M. Mar- 
ble, who is editor-in-chief He writes much, and writes 
well, and gives a large portion of his time to the 
paper. He is a genial, accomplished gentleman, with 

41 



642 



Sunshine and Shadow 



a fine address, and is very popular with his friends. 
J). G. Croly is the managing editor. WilHam H. 
Hurlbnrt is a graceful, humorous writer, keen, sharp, 
and pointed. Most of the political leaders are writ- 
ten by Chamberlain, formerly of Philadelphia. 



In New York. 643 



LXXIX. 

NEW YORK INDEPENDENT. 

ITS ORIGIN. TRESBTTERIANS AND CONGREGATIONALISTS SEPARATE. — NEW 

ORGAN NEEDED. BASIS OF THE PAPER. — THE INDEPENDENT AND ITS 

EDITORS. POLITICAL AND ANTI-SLAVERY PLATFORMS. THE HIGHER LAW. 

TRACT SOCIETY CONTROVERSY. MR. BEECHEU AS EDITOR. — THEODORE 

TILTON. CONNECTION WITH THE OBSERVER. BECOMES CONNECTED WITH 

THE INDEPENDENT. — HIS REMARKABLE CAREER. — DR. LEAVITT. HENRY 

C. BOWEN. 

ITS ORIGIN. 

Towards the close of the last century the New Eng- 
land churches sent out their missionaries into the new 
states. Men were sent, not only into New York, but into 
the West and the South. The Presbyterians were in the 
field, and a plan of union was formed between the Con- 
gregationalists and Presbyterians, by which the inin- 
isters of each should occupy the same field and the 
same churches. The Presbyterians were very tenaciou.s 
of their form of government, and this tenacity increased 
till it nearly swallowed up all there was of Congrega- 
tionalism. About forty years ago the pressure made 
by the Presbyterians on the Congregationalists induced 
them to withdraw from the union and form small Con- 
gregational churches and associations of the same form 
of government. The Old School Presbyterians cut off 



64.4 Sunshine and Shadow 

the New School and the Congregatlonahsts from their 
Presbyteries. This led to the formation of Congrega- 
tional churches throughout the West. A company of 
young men went into Iowa, and were known as the 
Andover Band, from the theological seminary which 
they had left. They were able men, and through their 
labors new congregations were founded and new as- 
sociations reared in most of the Western States. 

The Cono;reo;ationalists had no org-an out of New 
England. The ''Evangelist," till 1837, was a Congre- 
gational paper. It then became Presbyterian. A new 
glory whs dawning on the Congregational Church. 
Eev. Joseph P. Thompson and Dr. Cheever were in 
New York. Rev. R S. Storrs and Henry Ward 
Beecher were in Brooklyn. They were men of talent 
and power. Their churches were large, wealthy, and 
influential. A newspaper through which these men 
could speak to the world seemed a necessity. Eev. 
Dr. Joshua Leavitt became the nucleus around which 
earnest and talented men gathered, who proposed to 
start a religious paper that should be second to 
none in the land. 

BASIS OF THE PAPER. 

There were in New York several young Christian 
merchants of wealth, who proposed to found a paper 
upon a financial basis that should secure its publication 
for five years, whether the paper was a success or not, 
whether it had a subscriber or not. It was to be a 
catholic, liberal. Christian sheet, which should not only 
discuss religious topics, and be the organ of Congrega- 
tionalism, but also be the champion of freedom, and a 



In New York. G45 

decided opponent of slaver}^ Three clerical gentlemen 
^ve^e selected as editors — Rev. Drs. Bacon of New 
Haven, Thompson of New York, and Storrs of Brook- 
hn. x\fter much discussion, the name "Independent" 
was adopted, as every way fitting to indicate the posi- 
tion the paper was to assume on matters religious, 
political, and educational. An agreement in writing was 
drawn, defining the duties of all parties connected with 
the paper — editors, proprietors, and assistants. 

THE INDEPENDENT AND ITS EDITORS. 

On the 1st of December, 1848, the first number of 
the Independent was printed. It was in season to take 
part in the free-soil canvass of 1848. It was a part of 
the original compact that the Independent should 
speak out on the question of Liberty in no measured 
tones. The proprietors and the editors were anti- 
slavery men, but till the canvass of 1848 they were 
not abolitionists. The motto of the paper, suggested 
b}' Dr. Leavitt, was very significant : " But as we were 
allowed of God to be put in trust with the Gospel, even 
so we speak, not as pleasing men, but God, which 
trieth our hearts." Up to this time there had been 
much in common between the New School Presby- 
terians and the Congregationalists. The starting of the 
Independent aroused the New School branch. Mr. 
Leavitt, the old war-horse of anti-slavery, had many 
political enemies. To damage the Independent, tlie 
story was circulated that " Joshua Leavitt was to be 
its editor." The effect of this announcement was to 
bring at once from fifteen hundred to two thousand 
subscribers, who were auti-slavery in sentiment, to the 



646 Sunshine and Shadow 

subscription list of the Independent. Seeing the mis- 
take, it was then asserted that Mr. Leavitt was not to 
be engaged as editor, but only to gather scraps and 
clippings for the paper. To head off the new Congre- 
gational organ, a paper was started, called the Pres- 
byterian, to be the organ of the New School. Theodore 
D wight and L. Halsey, an Old School Presbyterian, 
were the editors. The latter was to receive a salary 
of five thousand dollars. The paper was weakly, and 
died at the close of the first jear, and its subscription 
list was transferred to the Evangelist. 

In the meanwhile the Independent went swinging 
along at the most successful rate. It secured a large 
list of subscribers, and correspondence came in from all 
parts of the country. The ability, tact, and executive 
power seen in the management of the paper, and, above 
all, its readable character, gave it marked success. Be- 
sides its religious and political principles, the paper has 
always been distinguished for the independence, fair- 
ness, and ability of its book notices. This department 
has been a speciality. 

The greatest harmony of opinion prevailed among 
the editors. A weekly consultation was held, and all 
important matters submitted. When a consultation 
could not be had, and an important leader was pub- 
lished, the article was usually acknowledged to be the 
thing needed. The utmost sympathy existed among 
the editors. 

THE HIGHER LAW. 

On the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law, in 1850, 
Dr. Thompson wrote a leader, in which he took ground 
that so inflxmous was the law, no Christian man was 



In New York. 647 

bound to obey it. This is conceded to have been the 
first announcement of the principle afterwards known as 
the " Higher Law/' which phrase is due to Mr. Seward. 
The announcement became the pivot on which the 
whole country finally wheeled. The position was in 
advance of public sentiment. The doom of the In- 
dependent was predicted. The stake was moved too 
far in advance, it was thought. Subscribers and 
patrons were startled. One of the original founders 
of the paper, who was largely in the Southern trade, 
withdrew from the concern. But the Independent 
took no backvk^ard steps. 

TRACT SOCIETY CONTROVERSY. 

The Independent accused the Tract Society of being 
an ally of slaver}^, assailed its position, and opened a 
controversy wdiich was sustained with great vigor and 
ability on both sides. The whole country looked on 
with deep interest as the controversy progressed. An 
eminent clergyman met Dr. Leavitt in the street, and 
said to him, " Doctor, I pity you fellows. No one ever 
opposed that Society without getting the worst of it. 
I had a controversy with it mjself, and it nearly killed 
me. You will be crushed. They will hunt you high 
and low, and there will be nothing left of you : they 
will grind you to powder." " Well," said Dr. Leavitt, 
" I know we are right in principle. Our paper has a 
financial basis that can't be shaken for five years. We 
can print the Independent ever}^ week during that 
time if every subscriber leaves us. We have three 
editors, amono; the ablest writers in the land, backed 
by wealthy churches, and they are all a unit m this 



648 Sunshine and Shadow 

matter. The Cono'rei2:ational chiirclies thronn-hout the 
country sustain us. Our hst is increasing ; the great 
heart of the people has been touched, and we shall 
succeed," The war ended the controversy, and brought 
the Tract Society on to anti-slavery ground. 

MR. BEECHER AS EDITOR. 

The war produced a change in the management of 
the paper. The three editors resigned. Henry Ward 
Beecher took the editorial chair. He manau^ed the 
Independent till he went to Europe, and, without any 
formal resignation, gradually withdrew from the con- 
trol of its columns. He had previously been a regular 
contributor. His papers, which were designated by a 
star, were among the most popular and brilliant that 
ever came from his pen. His labors as an editor were 
able and satisfactory, though he wrote but little. Those 
savage attacks on Mr. Lincoln, in the Independent, 
which 'attracted so much attention throughout the 
country, not to say indignation, were from the pen of 
Mr. Beecher. The experiment of reporting his ser- 
mons from his lips by a phonographer proved a paying 
one, and was continued for several years. His celebrat- 
ed Cleveland Letter closed his connection with the 
paper. 

THEODORE TILTON. 

The present editor-in-chief became connected with 
the Independent rather incidentally. He graduated 
from the Free Academy of New York, and connected 
himself with the Observer. He possessed a brilliant 
imagination, wrote acceptable poetry, was ready with 
his pen and tongue, and manifested a decided ambition 




IB 

■ 
I 



In New York. G49 

to make liis mark. A disagreement on the matter of 
slavery led to his dismissal from the Observer. He 
was afloat in the world, with a young w^ife on his hands, 
and without means of support. He was about twentj'- 
one years of age, a member of Plymouth Church, and 
in his welfare the pastor and people took a decided 
interest. Through Mr. Beecher's influence, Mr. Tilton 
was put on the Independent in 1856, to do anything 
that might be found for him to do. 

Unknown at the start, he first attracted ircneral 
attention by a controversy in Plj'mouth Church be- 
tween himself and Mr. Beecher. Mr. Tilton took tlie 
ground that as a consistent anti-slavery man Mr. 
Beecher could not support the American Board. Mr. 
Beecher defended his position, and Tilton assailed 
it, before crowded audiences, who were attracted by 
the discussion. Mr. Beecher was tender and concilia- 
tory. Mr. Tilton was fierce, vindictive, and denuncia- 
tory. One of Mr. Tilton's speeches was reported and 
printed in the Independent. It put him to the front 
rank as an anti-slavery speaker, and he became a favor- 
ite orator at public meetings. It brought him out as a 
lecturer, and he is probably now as popular and suc- 
cessful as any man who makes lecturing a business. 
When Mr. Beecher went to Europe, Mr. Tilton was 
left in charge of the Independent. On the withdrawal 
of Mr. Beecher, without any formal introduction he 
continued in the position wdiich he now holds. He is 
sole editor of the paper. He is left perfectly free to 
conduct it as he will. While the drift is unchanged, he 
is untrammelled. The leaders, double-leaded, are from 
his pen. 



650 Sunshine and Shadow 



DR. LEAVITT. 

This o:entleman is associate editor. He was one of 
the original founders of the paper, and has held an 
important place in its management from the start. 
Trained a lawyer, he is a preacher of marked ability, 
a writer of pith, sharpness, culture. With extensive 
knowledge, he was able to assume any place, and fill 
any vacancy. Forty years ago he came to the city, and 
was editor of the Sailor's Matrazine. A decided Cono;re- 
gationalist, he edited the Evangelist when that paper 
was in the interest of that body. Under the control of 
Dr. Leavitt, the Evangelist took the side of reform, de- 
fended Congregationalism, assailing slavery, and vin- 
dicating revivals. In 1842 he became editor of the 
Emancipator, which was removed to Boston. He 
closed his connection with that paper in 1847, and was 
called into the original council, in 1848, by which the 
Independent was started. Many years before. Dr. 
Leavitt commenced the system of reporting sermons 
as they were delivered from the pulpit. The celebrated 
lectures of Mr. Finney, in Chatham Theatre, reported 
by Dr. Leavitt, attracted so much attention that pro- 
fessional reporters were brought from Washington to 
do the same thing for other papers. 

HENRY C. BOWEN. 

This gentleman, who, twenty years ago, united with 
other young merchants in establishing the Indepen- 
dent, is now the sole proprietor. His executive ability 
is very marked. He is liberal, generous, and con- 
siderate. The editors are untrammelled, their pay is 



In New York. 651 

large, and thoj are allowed to call in any aid needful 
to give the paper a position among the best in the 
land. Large sums are paid to writers, — not any great 
sum to any individual, but a fair compensation to a 
large number. The proprietor intends to secure the 
best talent in the country, and pay that talent a hand- 
some remuneration. Correspondence is not as much 
sought for, either foreign or at home, as formerly. 
Articles of merit, essaj's on important subjects and 
themes, take the place of gossiping letters. The new 
feature of the paper is the advocacy of female suffrage, 
to which it is as fully committed as to religion, anti- 
slavery, or temperance. Mr. Bowen is a genial, com- 
panionable, agreeable man, with great business talents. 
He has made the paper a paying success. It is, with- 
out doubt, the most profitable religious journal in the 
world. 

FINALE. 

In cutting itself loose from Congregationalism, as a 
partisan organ, the Independent has changed none of 
its principles. It is still an unflinching advocate of 
freedom in church and state. It advocates the reforms 
and humanities of the age with surpassing ability. Its 
editor-in-chief, scarcely thirty-five years of age, is a very 
marked man in appearance. lie is tall, with a decided 
stoop, a face in which the energy of youth and the 
maturity of age seem to struggle for the mastery. His 
hair, lightish-brown, is long, flowing, and prematurely 
gray. He w^alks the streets with his head inclined, his 
eyes on the pavement, taking no notice of even his 
friends. He is genial, warm-hearted, and sociable, has 
strono' warm friends, to whom he attaches himself as 
with hooks of steel. 



652 Sunshine and Shadow 



FINANCLVL SUCCESS. 

For twelve 3^eaTs the Independent was conducted on 
a sectarian basis ; but it never was a financial success. 
The original owners fell off, one by one, till Mr. Bowen 
became j)nncipally responsible for the publication of 
the paper. It never paid its expenses. The editors 
were allowed to draw on him for any funds necessary 
to make the paper what it ought to be. He never ques- 
tioned their expenditures, and paid all the bills cheer- 
fully. While he was making money, a few thousands 
one wa}^ or the other amounted to but little. At the 
opening of the war, the Independent was indebted to 
Mr. Bowen in the sum of forty thousand dollars. This, 
with the heavy losses resulting from the war, obliged 
the house of which he was a partner to suspend. 
During the long years of its existence the proprietors 
had received no income in any way from the paper. 
He entered the office, rolled up his sleeves, and resolved 
to try the experiment whether or not the Independent 
could be made a paying paper. Twenty thousand 
dollars in cash have been paid for advertising since 
Mr. Bowen became the publisher. The indebtedness of 
fortj^ thousand dollars has been paid from the profits. 
Two hundred thousand dollars was paid to extinguish 
the interest of parties in the paper. One half mil- 
lion of dollars has been refused for the paper. The 
salaries are liberal. The editor went on to the paper 
at a salary of eight hundred dollars a year, and is now 
paid six hundred dollars a month, or, in round num- 
bers, seven thousand five hundred dollars a year. Dr. 
Leavitt, who started with the paper, has his salary 



In New York. 653 

increased with his infirmities, and will l)e supported 
when he is too enibebled to labor. The ablest men of 
the different evangelical denominations are secured to 
swell the editorial force. A department for temperance, 
Sunda}'' schools, and other important causes, is to have 
an editor who shall be second in ability to none in the 
land. The Independent is claimed to be the best pay- 
ing paper in America, except the Herald. And this 
has been the fruit of cutting loose from party, local 
and sectarian issues, and launching out on the broad 
ocean of Christian union, and giving its. energies to the 
whole church. A splendid marble building has been 
secured on Park Place, to be fitted up elegantly as a 
banking-house for the accommodation of the increasing 
business <Df this enterprising concern. 



If 

■11 



654 Sunshine and Shadoav 



LXXX. 

HON. HORACE GREELEY. 

Mr. Greeley is the well-known editor-in-chief of the 
New York Tribune. He is one of the marked men of 
the city, and is one of the most influential. He began 
life on the lowest round of the ladder, and by his talent, 
invincible industry, and purity of character, has ele- 
vated himself to the highest position, and has probably 
more power to-day over the American people than any 
other living man. His style of dress and appearance 
in the street are very peculiar. His white coat has 
become as historical as Napoleon's gray one. His face 
is fair, and a youthful and healthful hue flushes it. 
His step in the street is hurried. His head is in 
advance of his body, while his feet trail heavily on the 
ground. The crowd that rush past him make no im- 
pression upon him, whether they rush by without 
noticing, or pause to follow him with their eyes. His 
head is massive, quite bald on the top, fringed with 
flaxen hair around the base of the brain, till it blends 
with a loose, thin beard of the same color, which crops 
out irregularly around the throat, and over a loosely- 
tied black silk neckerchief In height he is a little 
below six feet. His eyes are of a grayish-blue. His 
eyebrows are so flaxen as to be almost unobservable. 



In New York. 655 

His dress has long been the subject of Ccaricaturists. 
He can be picked out anywhere, whether in a paper 
sketch, charcoal sketch, or rude drawing. He wears a 
loosely fitting black swallow-tailed coat, black pants, 
black velvet or silk vest. His cravat is the heavy silk 
one of other days. He wears no jewelry except a gold 
ring. His hat is of the soft, broad-brimmed style, 
pushed back from the forehead, as if the brain was too 
active or too hot to be covered. Physically he is 
powerful but awkward. He stoops, droops his shoulders, 
swings his arms, and walks with a loun2;int>;, irresrular 
gait. There is nothing in his personal appearance to 
indicate a man of commanding power, and the editor-in^ 
chief of one of the most influential journals of the age. 

Mr. Greeley is not a partisan. He represents the gen- 
eral convictions and aspirations of the American peo- 
ple. In those biding places of New England's power, 
the factories, workshops, and the hearths of quiet 
homesteads, the Tribune is an oracle. In the fenced 
fields of the prairies, and in the log cabins of the far 
West, it is a power. Pioneers, stock raisers, and intel- 
ligent mechanics trust Mr. Greeley. All sects and 
fashions of religionists, dreamers, schemists, and ideal- 
ists find fair play in the Tribune. Mr. Greeley is dis- 
tinguished for the intensity and honesty of his convic- 
tions. He may be wrong, but is never base; he may 
be in advance of public opinion ; he may be deserted hy 
all but a few dozen followers on some new questions ; 
he may oppose his own party ; he may attempt to 
destroy an officer, or a policy, that he helped to create 
a few months before. While cursing his vagaries, the 
public have unbounded confidence in the purity of his 



656 Sunshine and Shadow 

motives and his questionless honesty. He is schooled 
for defeat as well as victory. Patronage cannot allure 
him from what he believes to be right. Nominations 
for office cannot corrupt him. His paper is a political 
power, of unexampled success. As an individual politi- 
cian, Mr. Greeley's life so fir is a fiilure. He has none 
of the elective affinities that mark a great leader ; and 
though he generally comes out right with the public 
in the end, his intolerance of differences in public 
judgment mar his present success. 

As a speaker, he is very forcible and impressive, but 
not attractive. Calls on him for charitable purposes, 
temperance, and humane gatherings are numerous. 
His response to these calls is cheerful, and without com- 
pensation. In private life, in company w^ith a few 
friends, and in personal intercourse, he is a delightful 
companion. His table-talk is spirited, humorous, and 
full of anecdote. He is no ascetic, but receives heartily 
the good things of Providence, refusing wines, and all 
strong drinks, taking no beverage stronger than tea. 
His memory is stupendous, and the accuracy by which 
he can recall the political movements of the past, and 
the votes even of the states, is marvellous. Not much 
of an artist himself, he is fond of pictures, sculpture, and 
music. His charities are very large, and scarcely any 
one gets into his presence, who wants a contribution, 
without obtainintr one. He is a Universalist in reli- 
gious sentiment, and a regular attendant at Dr. Chapin's 
church. His daughter is in the Convent of the Sacred 
Heart, for education. 

A small room in the Tribune office is set apart for his 
use. It is a mere den, and as unsightly as can well 



In New York. 657 

be conceived. He works like a dray-horse. His cor- 
respondence is immense. Besides this, and writing his 
editorials, he has usually some heavy work on hand 
which occupies his whole time. Any one who has 
claims upon him can gain access to his room. He will 
usually be found sitting on a high stool with a table 
before him, which comes up almost to his chin, and is 
of pine, and uncovered, soiled with use, and stained 
with ink, pen in hand, driving away at his task, with a, 
handwriting that few can decipher. His associate on 
the Tribune, and managing editor, is John R. Young, a 
3-oung man, but one of the most promising and talented 
connected with the press. He controls everything and 
everybody, and is the real power of the paper. 

To read the daily papers of New York, one would 
suppose that the editors of the leading journals were 
bitter foes, and were kept from personal violence only 
from fear of the police. A heavy blow struck at '■ old 
Bennett," the "little villain of the Times," the "bran- 
bread eater " and " white-coated philosopher of the 
Tribune," or some other editor, would give an idea of 
a most unfriendly relation between these parties. But 
the flict is, there is no class of men in this city, or any 
other, that are more social, friendly, and harmonious 
than the gentlemen connected with the leading press 
of New York. At the dinner given by the press of 
New York to Mr. Dickens, on the birthday of Shake- 
speare, Mr. Bennett received the unanimous appoint- 
ment to preside. On his declining, with the same 
unanimity Mr. Greeley was selected. There is scarcely 
a day when the leading editors, representing the lead- 
ing political and religious features of the country, do 

42 



658 



Sunshine and Shadow 



not meet at Delmonico's, or some other place, for a 
social sit-down. Conservatives and Radicals, Democrats 
and Republicans, Catholics and Protestants, conductors 
of the "press, strike hands over a plate of soup; and, 
after unbending for an hour, go back to their several 
dens to renew the paper warfare. 



In New York. 659 



LXXXI. 

GENERAL CHARLES G. HALPINE. 

This gentleman, so well known by his noni de 'plwne, 
Miles O'Reilly, was one of the most talented, versa- 
tile, and popular members of the press. He was a 
poet, orator, and writer. He was born in Ireland, in 
July, 1829. His father was an Episcopal clergyman, 
and his ancestors, on both sides, were either in the 
church or army. Before he was twenty-one, he im- 
bibed the principles of the " Young Ireland " party, 
and became the only " green sprig " in an intensely 
Orange family. His father died about the time Hal- 
pine obtained his' majority, and died in embarrassed 
circumstances. Halpine came to this country, and set- 
tled in Boston, in 1852. He soon made his mark as a 
writer on the Boston Post. In connection with B. P. 
Shillaber and others, he started the " Carpet Bag," a 
semi-comic weekly paper, which had a large circula- 
tion, but came to an untimely end for w\ant of 2:)roper 
business management. On his removal to New York 
he became the correspondent of the Boston Post, and 
also of the London Mornino; Chronicle. He wrote the 
editorials in the News when it was National Democratic, 
and subsequently became associate editor of the New 



660 Sunshine and Shadow 

York Times. In 1857 Halpine purchased one third 
interest in the Leader, the organ of Judge Douglas. 
In 1858 he became assistant district attorney, and was 
elected a member of Tammany Society. Tiiere was 
hardly a subordinate office in the city that he did not 
fill. He was secretary in the post office, clerk of 
indictments, secretary of the street department, clerk 
of chancery records, private secretary to Ma3'or Tie- 
mann ; besides rejecting the clerkship of the Supreme 
Court, and various other offices. During all this time 
his connection with the daily press was kept up. He 
wrote for the Herald, Times, Tribune, and corresponded 
with the press around the world. He contributed 
articles for Harper's, Putnam's, and the Atlantic. His 
volume of poems gave him much distinction. The 
lampoon on the American flag, " Hail, thou flaunt- 
ing lie ! " was published in the Tribune. It brought 
down severe animadversions on Mr. Greeley; and 
though Halpine was always ready to acknowledge the 
authorship, the editor of the Tribune would not allow 
him to do so. 

In April, 1861, Halpine went out as second lieuten- 
ant in the famous Sixty-ninth of New York. He aided 
in throwing up Fort Corcoran, the first important earth- 
work of the war. He was gazetted as captain in June, 
and rose rapidly till he became assistant adjutant-gen- 
eral in the field, which position he maintained till the 
close of the war. He* became chief-of-staff of the 
Tenth Army Corps, and participated in all the opera- 
tions alono; the coast. In 1862 he was on the staff of 
General Halleck, then general-in-chief He was ap- 
pointed to several positions in the regular army, which 



In New York. GGl 

lie declined. He tendered his resignation in con- 
sequence of the loss of sight, which was formally 
accepted by Secretary Stanton, in a manner more com- 
plimentary than the war secretary often gave. 

On his retm^n to the city he resumed his connec- 
tion with the press, which he did not entirely suspend 
during the war. He started a w^eekly paper, which 
has been a marked success, and is known as the New 
York Citizen. The office of register is one of the most 
lucrative in New York. Tammany Hall, Mozart, and 
the Conservatives had each a candidate for register in 
the field. Halpine nominated himself for the office, and 
won the prize by a majority of twenty-two thousand. 

When General Halpine was eighteen years of age, 
he married a young English lady, whose father was in 
the army. He left five children, two sons and three 
daughters. He died at thirty-nine years of age, but 
looked less than thirty. Under the average lieight, 
he was thick-set, and well built, with light hair, and an 
expressive eye. He was generous, high-minded, and 
hospitable. He made friends on all sides, and attached 
them to him with great tenacity. He w\as reliable as 
a friend, and courteous to those who differed from him. 
His industry was indomitable. He worked like a 
draught-horse ; and besides his duties as register, which 
would be enough for an ordinary man, his literary 
labors were enough for an editorial staff! 

General Halpine died sudclenly, at New York, Au- 
gust 2, 1868, mourned by a vast number of friends. 
The streets through which the funeral cortecje moved 
were densely crowded. The pall-bearers comprised 
fourteen of the most distinguished political, literary, 
and professional gentlemen of the city. 



662 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXXII.. 
R. L. AND A. STUART. 

This house is one of the old firms of New York. It 
is as well known throughout the world as any name in 
America. Fortune and fame have resulted from the 
manufacture of pure and excellent candies. The old 
manuflictory on Chambers Street, established over half 
a century ago, still abides. The candy of commerce, 
which is so largely manufactured in this city, is un- 
wholesome and poisonous. The white earth of Ireland 
takes the place of sugar. Common paste blacking is a 
substitute for liquorice. Candies, almonds, cough-drops, 
and lozenges are manufactured out of clay ; and the 
essence used is abstracted from fusil oils, which are of 
themselves rank poison. The slaughter-house furnishes 
a glutinous matter used in cheap confectionery, and 
manufacturers are notified when this material is on 
hand; The Stuarts have always manufactured candies 
from pure sugar, and all the materials used are of the 
first quality. They have found their profit in this 
honorable procedure. Fifty years of undeviating recti- 
tude have placed this house among the millionnaires of 
New York. 

The Stuarts sprang from the humblest origin. They 
were Scotch-Irish. The father was indolent and in- 



In New York. G63 

temperate. The mother was intclhgent, industrious, 
and pious. Her desire was to preserve her boys from 
want, and train them in the fear of the Lord. To sup- 
port her children, the mother manufactured ^molasses 
candy, and sent out her boys to sell it. The candy 
was toothsome, and uniformly excellent, and found a 
ready market. From the profits of the trade the 
mother of the Stuarts was able to open a small candy 
store. From this humble beginning sprang the retail 
establishment so celebrated in the city, and the great 
sugar refinery of the house so famous in all the land. 
The brothers are devout Presbj^terians, and are among 
the most princely donf)rs to the religious enterprises 
of that important sect. Their benefactions are not con- 
fined to the members of Iheir own faith. Their con- 
tributions to every good work are large as the sea. 

For many years the Stuarts lived in Chambers Street, 
adjoining their refinery. One of the firm still keeps 
his residence on the old sjDot, though surrounded by 
trade and the clash of business. The other has moved 
into the aristocratic locality of Fifth Avenue, where he 
dwells in princely style. No turnouts in Central Park 
excel in style and beauty those driven by the Stuarts.^ 
Springing from the humblest origin, basing their busi- 
ness on integrity, they show in their success what New 
York can do for penniless boys who are willing to help 
themselves. 



664 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXXIII. 

JAMES LENOX. 

Mr. Lenox began the "up-town movement when 
Fifth Avenue was unpavecl, unlighted, untenanted. 
He built himself a princely mansion of brown-stone, 
unusual in those days, with a front of seventy-five 
feet on the avenue. It was through his influence that 
the Wall Street Church was removed to its elegant 
location on Fifth Avenue. Of this church Mr. Lenox 
is a devout and liberal member. He is a man of very 
cultivated and refined tastes, but he lives retired 
and without show. His mansion is one of the most 
splendid in the city. It is furnished with rare mag- 
nificence. His gallery of pictures is the most costly 
and valuable of any in the United States. He has a 
library full of the choicest books and manuscripts in 
America. He has rare and expensive editions of the 
Bible. He has the original draught of Washington's 
Farewell Address. It cost Mr. Lenox two thousand 
dollars. He would not part with it for fifty thousand 
dollars. This residence and its costly adornings are 
not open to the public. To a limited circle of con- 
fidential friends the mansion is at times thrown open. ^ 
Mr. Lenox has a country seat at Newport, but he I 



»! 



In New York. G65 

prefers his New York residence, because there he can 
shut out the world and be retired. His benefactions 
are very large. No man excels him in this except 
Daniel Drew. Mr. Lenox gives away annually from 
sixty to a hundred thousand dollars. 



666 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXXIY. 

AUGUST BELMONT. 

The house of Belmont & Co., in New York, has few 
sii|3eriors. As the agent of the Rothschilds, this house is 
preeminent. In a dingy granite building on Wall Street, 
with low, dark chambers, plainly, and, in comparison 
with other banking-houses, meanly furnished, Belmont 
& Co. transact their immense business. There is noth- 
ing attractive about the person of the banker. He is 
a Jew, whose countenance and speech indicate his 
nationality. He is thick-set, but stinted in size. He 
is very lame, and his appearance impresses no one. 
He is a leading politician, and makes large contribu- 
tions for political purposes, and receives in exchange 
the chairmanship of important committees. His wife 
was the daughter of Commodore Perry, on whom he 
settled an independent fortune before marriage. He 
lives on Fifth Avenue, in a very large but plainly built 
brick mansion, modelled after the London houses. His 
picture gallery is second only to that owned by Mr. 
Lenox. Unlike Mr. Lenox, he does not close his house 
against his friends. He is ver}^ hospitable, entertains 
very largely during the season, and in princely style. 
He is very fond of masquerades and private theatricals. 
He often takes the leading characters, and imports the 



In New York. 667 

most sumptuoiTS dresses from abroad for himself and 
friends. No banker in New York can spread a table 
covered with such costly plate. A quiet man in busi- 
ness, very decided, and using but few words, he is very 
genial, with a great flow of spirits when he acts the 
part of host, or joins in the entertainments of his 
friends. 



668 



Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXXV. 



EDWIN D. MORGAN. 



A NATIVE of Massachusetts, Mr. Morgan came to New 
York ^vllen quite yoimg. He was penniless, and began 
trade in as small way as can be imagined. He bartered 
for a while in the products of his native state, and then 
set up the grocery business in as small way as can well 
be conceived. With a plain, common school education, 
he had a good deal of business tact. His habits were 
good, and by strict attention to business he slowly but 
surely improved his fortune. He became a wholesale 
trader, and from his grocery establishment on Front 
Street he removed to Exchange Place, and opened the 
house of E. D. Morgan & Co. He became a bold 
operator in goods, stocks, and real estate. His clear 
brain enabled him to walk safely where other men 
stmnbled. He made money where other men lost it. 
He is now about sixty 3'ears of age, with a fortune 
estimated at one million of dollars. For twenty years 
he has been in political life. He was governor of the 
state during the war, and is now United States senator. 
He has a very fine mansion on Fifth Avenue, where he 
dispenses a liberal and elegant hospitality. 



In New York. 669 



LXXXVI. 

THEATRES IN NEW YORK. 

Nothing htis clianored more than the New York 
theatres. The opera has taken the place of drama, 
and the so-called moral plays have superseded Shake- 
speare and his friends. The pit has departed, and in 
its place has arisen the parquette, the most reputable 
portion of the house. The third gallery has been 
removed, never to retm^n, at least during this genera- 
tion. There are no actors in New York of any note, 
and the pieces put on the stage, except at Wallack's, 
are a burlesque. The retirement of Mrs. Hoey from 
the stage left no actress of any name to gratify New 
York. Wallack's Theatre is unexceptional in elegance, 
scenery, the manner in which pieces are put on the 
staee, and in the dress of the artists. 

The Bowery is all that remains of the theatre of the 
olden time. The Bowery Boys, Plug Uglies, and low 
New York patronize this place, and the plays are of 
the Dick Turpin and blood-and-thunder school. Moral 
lessons are suggested by the sight of the upper part of 
this institution, and the crowded condition and character 
of the audience, that can be found nowhere else. An 
occasional visit of an artist of note stirs New York to 
its centre. But the performers in our theatres scarcely 






670 



Sunshine and Shadow 



rise to the dignity of second-rate actors. Billiards, 
cards, costly parties, clubs, and dissipation take the 
place of play-going. We have numerous sensational 
play-houses, where small actors perform small plays, 
written by small men. But the era of sterling drama 
and talented actcrs is in the past, perhaps never to 
return. 



In New York. GTl 



LXXXVII. 

THE NEW YORK YOUNG MEN'S 
CHRISTIAN ASSOCIATION. 

ORIGIN. CONTROVERSY ON SLAVERY. WHO ORIGINATED FULTON STREET 

DAY MEETING? ASSOCIATION AND THE WAR. — LARGE WORK OP THE 

ASSOCIATION. — THE NEW HEADQUARTERS. — PURPOSE OF THE ASSOCIA- 
TION. — OUTSIDE WORK. 

ORIGIN. 

This benevolent society was organized 16th of July, 
1852, having for its object the improvement of the 
spiritual, mental, and social condition of 3'oung men. 
It first occupied a j)art of Stuyvesant Institute, No. 
659 Broadwav, and after various removals is now fixed 
in neat and pleasant rooms at the corner of Broadway 
and Twenty-second Street, from which there will prob- 
ably be no removal until the Association is permanently 
established in its new building at the corner of Twenty- 
third Street and Fourth Avenue, which will probably 
be completed as early as May, 1869. The Association 
has wrought a good work among the young men of the 
city in the past, and has done much for their elevation 
and improvement. By many it has heretofore been 
looked upon as an experiment, and has encountered 
much opposition from some quarters. At one time 



672 Sunshine and Shadow 

quite a number of the leading clergymen of the city 
took strong ground against it. 

CONTROVERSY ON SLAVERY. 

An important and prolonged controversy, in the 
winter of 1856-57, originating in a dispute about the 
action of a committee, and finally involving in some 
degree the ojDinion of the members on the question of 
slavery, then agitating the whole community, resulted 
in the withdrawal of one hundred and fifty persons, 
and for a time retarded the progress of the Association. 
A persistent adherence on the part of the remaining 
members to the special work for which the society was 
established, and a growing conviction in the minds 
of philanthroj)ic and Christian men of the peculiar 
temptations and dangers to which young men are 
exposed in this city, resulted shortly in its restoration 
to the place in the confidence of our citizens which it 
had formerly held. Since that time the Association 
has been steadily advancing in public favor, until now 
there are few who question its usefulness and value 
as an agency in opposing the inroads of evil and 
wickedness. 

WHO ORIGINATED FULTON STREET DAY MEETING? 

More than one year before the Fulton Street prayer- 
meeting was held under its present management, a 
committee of this societ}^ held in that now doubly 
sacred consistory a noonday prayer-meeting. These 
meetings were suspended in July, 1856, and in the 
autumn of that year they were resumed under the 
present direction, and have ever since so continued. 



In New York. 673 



ASSOCIATION AND THE WAR. 

At the breaking out of the war this Association took 
the lead in the work subsequently prosecuted by the 
Christian Commission, and for a long time were almost 
alone. On the 27th of May, 1861, their army com- 
mittee began its work. It was prosecuted in various 
forms about this city, in the camps, and among the 
soldiers temporarily here, until the battle of Bull Run, 
when it was extended to the camps and hospitals about 
Washington. It assumed such gigantic proportions 
that this Association urged a combination of all kindred 
societies for its prosecution, and finally, in response to the 
urgent requests of the army committee, a convention 
of these associations met in the rooms of the New York 
society on the 15th of November, 1861, when the 
Christian Commission was formed. In the prosecution 
of this work an army hymn-book was published by 
the committee, of which one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand copies were circulated among the soldiers. During 
the summer of 1862, while large numbers of wounded 
soldiers from the Peninsula were in the hospitals 
about the city, a committee of night-watchers, com- 
posed of members and friends of the Association, of 
more than three hundred, was organized, which ren- 
dered an invaluable service through the whole of that 
sad season. Each person held himself ready to spend 
the night at any hospital which should be indicated 
two days in advance by the chairman of the committee. 
The Association is entitled to m-eat credit for this work, 
which is akin to that in which like societies have 
engaged in other cities where pestilence has prevailed. 

43 



674 Sunshine and Shadow 



LARGE WORK OF THE ASSOCIATION. 

It is not among the least of the good works of this 
Association that it has aroused the attention of think- 
ing people to the peculiar condition and needs of the 
young men of this city. The special efforts put forth 
in this direction more recently deserve mention. An 
elaborate pamphlet, in form a skeleton of an argument 
upon this subject, was issued some two years since, 
which was circulated extensively among newspaper 
editors, clergymen, and our leading citizens of other 
callings ; this was followed by the publication of a series 
of letters received by officers of the Association support- 
ing the position taken in the pamphlet. These at- 
tracted much attention, were made the subject of 
many leading newspaper articles, and wei'e adverted 
to and commented upon largely in sermons and public 
addresses. 

THE NEW HEADQUARTERS. 

The Association reaped an immediate advantage in 
their effort to collect a sum sufficient to erect a build- 
ing commensurate with the work in hand. Already 
some two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars 
have been placed under th'e control of a board of 
trustees, specially created by an act of the legislature 
to hold the real estate of the Association. For the 
completion of the building as now contemplated, how- 
ever, one hundred and fifty thousand dollars more will 
be required. 

A fine plot of ground, of more than six full lots, has 
been purchased on the corner of Twenty-third Street 
and Fourth Avenue, where ground has already been 



In Neav York. G75 

broken for the proposed building, which is to be one 
hundred and seventy-five feet on the street and eighty- 
three feet on the avenue, and five stories high. The 
material is red brick, with light stone trimmings ; the 
style of architecture either Renaissance or Gothic, with 
Mansard roof The first iloor is appropriated to stores, 
and the fourth and fifth to studies. From these a 
rental is expected sufficient to carry on much of the 
work of the Association. 

The second and third stories are set apart for the 
purposes of the Association. There is to be a fine 
reading-room ; library with space for thirty thousand 
volumes ; a lecture-room which will seat fifteen hundred 
persons ; convenient class-rooms, parlors, a conversation- 
room, and a commodious gymnasium. Here it is pro- 
posed to carry on the work contemplated by the 
Association at its organization, upon a scale somewhat 
corresponding with the proportions of the field before it. 

PURPOSE OF THE ASSOCIATION. 

No pams will be spared to keep prominent, and to 
realize the great moral and religious objects of the 
society ; nor is it designed to neglect any secondary 
means or objects consistent with the grand purpose, 
for it is held by the Association that genuine radical 
reforms, unquestioned elevation and improvement, are 
formed only in a real change of heart, and complete 
personal dedication to the service of Christ. 

Already the foundation has been laid for a theologi- 
cal reference library, and the collection of books is 
even now extensive ; but the expectation is to make it 
complete in all departments, so that no one need com- 



676 Sunshine and Shadow 

plain of a lack of means to investigate any department 
of religious or theological truth or speculation, or any 
phase of religious belief, even the most peculiar. This 
collection will be free to all when completed, as it is 
now in its beginning. 

It is aimed, in the new building with its commodious 
rooms, to make free lectures, and classes upon topics 
and studies most useful to young men, a leading feature ; 
and plans are now under consideration touching these 
matters. 

The gymnasium will be large, scientifically arranged, 
thoroughly furnished, and free to all members of the 
Association. 

OUTSIDE WORK. 

While laying plans for this central building, the 
board of directors have not forgotten the more remote 
sections of the city. They look to branches, as aids in 
reaching young men. 

Already one is in full and successful operation in 
Varick Street, near Canal, conducted much upon the 
plan of the parent society ; another in Wooster Street 
for the colored young men ; one in Ludlow Street for 
the Germans. Another is now being organized in 
Harlem, and yet another in Grand Street, not far from 
the East River. It is not supposed that these will 
meet the wants of the young men of the city, but 
some three or four others are in contemplation. 

Every effort is made by the officers of the Associa- 
tion to employ, and develop, and increase the working 
power of the members, now more than sixteen hun- 
dred in number. The various committees are made 
as large as possible, while retaining compactness and 



In*New York. 677 

efficiency, and the aim is to have each person render 
some real service. There is something for every one 
to do, — money to be raised \ young men to be invited 
to the rooms ; to be introduced to good boarding-houses, 
to suitable companions, and places of employment, and 
agreeable church connections ; prayer-meetings to be 
sustained, the sick and destitute to be visited ; and thus 
each young man, while made a missionary to others, is 
being trained among those of his own age for the best 
works of charity. And many of the leading men in 
middle life in our city, and in. the land, began their 
philanthropic and Christian work in this Association. As 
greater experence is acquired, this scheme for training 
yonng men, while rendering them at present useful, 
will operate with greater efficiency. And the power 
of the Association for good will be more than cor- 
respondingly increased when the new building is ready 
for occupation. All through its history there have 
been many capable and talented young men in the 
board of directors, and active on the committees ; and 
it is safe to say that at no former period has there been 
connected v/itli it so large a number of men, well and 
favorably known to all our citizens, and so largely 
enjoying their confidence, as now. In this respect the 
Association will not suffer in comparison with any 
corporation in the city, secular or religious. 



¥ 



678 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXXVIII. 
ADMIRAL DAVID G. FARRAGUT. 

EABLT LIFE. — HEROIC RESOLUTION. HE BECOMES A STUDENT. VALUE OF 

ONE BOOK. THE GREAT LESSON TAUGHT. — PERSONAL. 

Admiral Farragut, now a resident of New York, was 
born in Knox County, Tennessee, but his father made 
Louisiana his home when David was a child. It was 
understood that he was a native of New Orleans. Mr. 
Lincoln thought that the son of so brave a man as 
Commodore Farragut, to whom President Jefferson 
intrusted the defence of New Orleans, would be a 
suitable man to take care of that city, and open the 
navig-ation of the river to the Gulf On his arrival, the 
rebels claimed him as a native born Louisianian, who 
would at once desert the old flag and follow his state. 
To all proposals he had but one answer. He was no 
Louisianian, he said; he was a simple citizen of the 
United States. He owed allegiance only to the flag of 
his country. His father, he said, was sent to New 
Orleans to suppress the treason of Burr, and he now 
came down to suppress the treason of secession. 

early life. 

David took to the sea naturally. His father was a 
sailor before him — a brave, bold, honest man. He 



In New York. 679 

Iiekl an honorable place in our navy. Small as it was 
then, it did some valiant things. David early exhibited 
manly courage and heroism. It is not only on the 
battle-field that courage can be seen. A boy may be 
brave in resisting temptation, in refusing to do a wrong 
action, in refusing to join in deeds forbidden or im- 
moral, in standing by the right when that is the 
unpopular side, in subduing his passions and appetites, 
in breaking off bad habits ; Farragut was in all this as 
brave when a boy as he was when he lashed himself 
to the mast in Mobile Bay, 

HEROIC RESOLUTION. 

David found in the navy gay companions. They 
smoked, chewed, drank, and swore. It was not strange 
that young Farragut should fall into the same habits. 
He was a gay young man — jovial, merry, and knew 
how to have a good time. But he early saw that the gay 
young men did not rise in their profession, and knew 
little of promotion. With most of them drinking grew 
with their growth, and they became drunkards. With 
the same courage that gained him renown later in life, 
Farragut resolved to rise-in his profession, and to cut 
loose from every habit that prevented his reaching the 
highest grade of the navy. He abandoned at once, in 
a day, the use of tobacco, profanity, strong drink, and 
so overcame himself; and when but. sixteen years of 
age he flung aside those lusts and appetites, customs 
and pastimes, in which the young so generally indulge, 
as hinderances to his success. He mastered his profes- 
sion ; did all that he did well. From the start to the 
crowninu; honors of an admiral he could be trusted. No 



680 Sunshine and Shadow 

questions of ease, safety, or personal comfort stood 
"between him and his duty. He was unflinching in his 
integrity and fidehty as he was in pluck. 

HE BECOMES A STUDENT. 

He knew that he must be intelligent as well as 
brave and plucky. Industry and application would 
enable him to gain enough knowledge to make him an 
intelligent seaman. He had no college training ; but 
he knew that application would make amends for any 
deficiency of early education. He had all that per- 
tained to the profession he had chosen. He was a close 
student, and to his books he owed all that distinguished 
him in later life. 

VALUE OF ONE BOOK. 

Admiral Farragut is indebted to one book for the 
most heroic feat connected with his name. He found 
an old history of the war between the English and 
French in Canada. In that war the English had been 
repeatedly defeated. A long line of disasters had 
marked their career. Commodore Boscawen was in 
command of the fleet. Wolfe was second in command. 
Commodore Boscawen had asked to have placed under 
him a Scotch commander. He selected him because he 
was a brave and accomplished man, of unflinching 
integrity. The commander decided to land troops in 
the sight of the" intrenched French soldiers. It was 
regarded as foolhardy, and a council of war was called 
by the commander of the army to consult on the 
matter. To this council Commodore Boscawen was 
invited. He neither accepted nor declined. He prom- 



In New York. 681 

ised to consider the m;itter, and give an answer when 
his mind was made up. lie signalled the Scotch com- 
mander to come on board his ship. He laid the case 
before him of the peril of landing the troops. " Leave 
that to me," said the brave old sailor ; " I can land them. 
Give me the authoritj^, and I will place the French and 
English side by side, and let them fight it out." To 
the astonishment and dismay of the officers and men, 
the order ran along the ship that the troops were to be 
knded at once. Against this order Wolfe protested, but 
the Scotchman was immovable. His orders were to 
land the troops. He should do it. Finding all re- 
monstrance vain, and that troops would be landed, and 
the French attacked, Wolfe then claimed the right to 
lead the expedition, and told him that the time had 
come when he could display his peculiar qualities by 
giving him good advice. He bade him utter his opin- 
ions freely, and with an honest heart. The Scotch 
commander spoke instantly : " Have nothing to do 
with this council of war. It is a coward's refuge. 
These officers do not want to fight, and the council is 
to save them. We have had a succession of defeats 
and disasters, and the country wants success. The 
country will have success. You must give it to them ; 
land your troops, and let them fight it out." 

Admiral Farragut informed the writer that when he 
made the resolution to pass the batteries at Port 
Hudson ; when all the fleet went back except the vessel 
that was lashed to his ship, and that would have gone 
back if it could have got away ; when he was lashed 
to the mast in Mobile Bay, he had the heroic conduct 
of the old Scotch commander before him. It was only 



682 Sunshine and Shadow 

death if lie did not succeed; and success would give 
new life to the nation. And in all his career in the 
late war he heard a voice sounding in his ear, " Your 
country wants success; your country will have success; 
you must give her success." We had been beaten 
on the land and on the sea. Our iron-clads and mon- 
itors were taken or sunk. Farragut was on the Mis- 
sissippi. It was his task to 023en the river ; and to do 
this, it was needful to pass Port Hudson. It would 
gain for our country an immense advantage. The at- 
tempt was dangerous. Men called it foolhardy. But 
the admiral had his father's pluck and his father's 
example before him, and the success of the brave old 
commander. He lashed a gun-boat to the side of the 
" dear -old Hartford," as Mrs. Farragut called the ship, 
and ordered the fleet to follow. But all were driven 
back but the Hartford by the terrible fire from the 
fort. The admiral took his life in his hands. The 
occasion was worthy of the sacrifice, and the old ship 
came safely through. In the midst of the hottest fire 
he thought of the old history he read when a boy. 

THE GREAT LESSON TAUGHT. 

Admiral Farragut chose early and with care the 
profession he intended to adopt. By study and dili- 
gence he fitted himself for a high position in that 
calling. He put a full and final end to bad habits and 
practices at war with success. He was bold and brave 
in cutting away from private indulgences that have 
ruined many as talented and hopeful as he. He is 
trusty, honest, capable, and faithful in all places and 
times. To success talents are needful, with intelligence j 



4 



In New York. 683 

for brain rules muscle. But moral brain leads all. 
Without it no one can stand high or stand long. 

PERSONAL. 

Admiral Farragut is small of stature, and is quite 
stout, with an agreeable face, wreathed in smiles. He 
is unobtrusive in manners, and the last man in the 
fleet that would be taken for the most successful and 
the bravest man in the navy. The flash of his eye 
shows that he knows how to command. His career is 
worthy the study and imitation of the youth of 
America. 



684 Sunshine and Shadow 



LXXXIX. 

DORLAN'S, FULTON MARKET. 

New York is the great place for business success, 
provided men begin right, and carry on their business 
on principle. There is no place in the world where 
integrity, honor, and industry are so good a capital. 
A man may begin anywhere, do anything, — dig gravel, 
black boots, peddle peanuts, keep an apple stand, open 
a small candy store, carry around letter paper to sell 
by the sheet. If he trades on honor, does his business 
well, has tact and brains, he will come to the surface. 

Dorian's oyster establishment, in Fulton Market, is 
one of the most noted places in the city. Go to any 
part of the country, and to any part of the world, and 
mention oysters, and Dorian's name will come up. 
" Dorian's," as it is called, is a small den of a place. It 
is as j)lainly furnished as can be conceived. The tables 
are without cloths. The floors are without carpets. 
White delf ware is used, but all is scrupulously clean. 
No opera, soiree, fashionable palace, can boast of a 
more fashionably dressed and distinguished company. 
Fastidious ladies, who at home dwell in splendid 
boudoirs and sit in perfumed chambers, take Dorian's 
on their way from the opera, for a stew or a saddle- 
rock roast. Gentlemen who have rosewood tables on 



In New York. • G85 

Turkey carpets, eat off of porcelain and silver ware, 
whose dining-rooms are perfumed with the choicest 
flowers, thankfully accept a stool without a back to it 
at Doilan's, and are jostled by the crowd. The belles 
and madams of the upper ten often stand in a row 
awaiting their turn. 

Over thirty years ago Mr. Dorian commenced busi- 
ness near the site where his present establishment 
stands. He is an original Knickerbocker, and was 
born not far from his present place of business. He 
had nothing to rely upon but his industry and his 
character. He formed a few simple rules, on which his 
whole business career has been based. These rules 
have led to permanent success. He is a very wealthy 
man, and has earned every dollar that he enjoys in his 
little crib, where he can be daily found during the 
hours of business. 

Among other rules he has acted upon is this, — 'per- 
sonal aiteniion to hiisiness. During his whole career this trait 
has marked Mr. Dorian. He can be found as earnestly 
engaged in business to-day as when he had a fortune to 
make. He is a tall, compact, well-made man, with 
sandy hair and complexion, and tlie look of a pilot, or 
one accustomed to the sea. His business is entirely a 
cash business. He buys and sells for himself; is his 
own cashier and book-keeper. The desk, at which he 
stands by the hour, commands every customer, every 
servant, and the many glowing furnaces on which tlie 
luscious oyster is cooked. No one passes in or out 
without passing before him. He makes no bad debts. 
His servants cannot cheat him, nor can they neglect 
their duty. With his coat off, sleeves rolled up, with- 



686 ' Sunshine and Shadow 

out a h«at, indoors and out, he receives all orders, sees 
that every guest is served and courteously attended to. 

Never sell a had article, was another rule adopted by 
Mr. Dorian at the start. He keeps nothing but first- 
class oysters, and everybody in the country knows it. 
No one asks, "Will you give me a good stew to-day ?" 
" Have you got good oysters ? " His oils are a specialty, 
and are sent for from all parts of the state. Indeed, 
they are sent for from the South and the Pacific coast. 
His butter comes from special dairies, and is always 
first-class. No merchant is more jealous of his honor, 
or that his paper shall not be protested, and his credit 
stand fliir, than Mr. Dorian is that the reputation of his 
establishment shall be maintained. His care over these 
little things has brought him a fortune, and underlaid 
his success. 

He trusts nothing to subordinates. He delegates 
nothing. He superintends all orders, and some roasts 
and stews that are a specialty in his establishment 
he cooks himself He could have left business with 
a fortune long ago, but he is of an active, healthy 
temperament, and he must do something with himself, 
and he prefers business to idleness. He is not ashamed 
to attend to his business, nor afraid to let men see him 
at his work. He has seen great changes during the 
thirty years of his service. Millionnaires have been 
swept away by battalions. Leaders of the ton, who 
patronize Dorian by eating his stews, but who cannot 
now get trusted for a roast, are thick as autumn leaves. 
The few merchants of New York who bes-an life with 
Dorian thirty years ago, and who have a fortune to 
show at the close of that long period, are men who, 



In New York. G87 

like Dorian, stcarted business and continued it on the 
principles of personal attention, integrity, and industry. 
Any one desiring business success in New York will 
find no place more worthy of a visit than Dorian's, at 
Fulton Market, and no character more worthy of being 
studied than that of the quiet, intelligent, courteous 
gentleman who can be found daily at his work, and 
whose name is known where ever civilization extends, 
and is never mentioned without honor. 



I 



688 Sunshine and Shadow 



XC. 

ROMAN CATHOLICS IN NEW YORK. 

INTRODUCTION OP CATHOLICISM INTO NEW YORK. — ITS PRESENT POSITION. — 

ARCHBISHOP MCCLOSKEY, 

Practically, in this city, Catholicism is the state 
religion. It carries the city at every election. It 
holds every position of emolument and trust within 
the bounds of the municipality. A few officers are 
appointed who are nominal Protestants. But these 
are as obsequious as members of the Romish commun- 
ion. A distinguished member of the New York bar, 
who was in communion with the Reformed Dutch 
Church, told me that he was offered a judgeship in the 
city, coupled with conditions wath which, as a Protes- 
tant and a Christian, he could not comply. Another, 
with an easier conscience, took the position on the 
supreme bench. Large annual sums are appropriated 
to carry on the work of the Catholics, and are paid out 
of the city funds. Valuable plots of land, under one 
pretence and another, have been donated and used for 
strictly sectarian purposes. To keep the poor Catholic 
children out of the Mission Schools at Five Points 
and elsewhere, and to keep them under Catholic in- 
struction, a society was formed, founded by, and long 



In New York. G89 

iincler the care of, the late Dr. Iris, at one time Protes- 
tant bishop of North Carohna. riundreds of children 
Mere gathered into this society, and the city govern- 
ment appropriated thousands of dollars every year for 
their support. The society is \vholly sectarian, de- 
signed to build up this particular sect. 

Our large charitable institutions are almost wholly 
under the control of the Catholic priests ; they have 
the run of the institutions ; especial privileges are 
granted as to hours of service ; especial conveniences 
are fitted up for Catholic worship ; while Protestants 
have to take things as they find them. At the Tombs, 
the women and children are under the charo;e of the 
Sisters of Charity. To this class Protestant ministers 
and laymen can have no access at all. A fine chapel, 
in a retired portion of the prison, fitted up with all the 
paraphernalia of Catholic worship, at the expense of 
the city, is used for service. No one is allowed to 
enter it while worship is going on. A priest is em- 
ploj^ed, and music, with all the attractions of the 
Eomish service, is introduced. Protestant worship on 
Sunday is held in the great hall, without convenience 
or decency, amid the jabber and talk of prisoners in 
their cells, not one of whom can be seen ; with the 
crowd taken from the bummers' cell, gathered in an 
indiscriminate mass on the pavement, squatting, kneel- 
ing, lying down, and jabbering, amid the locking and 
milocking of cell doors, the shouting of officers, the 
tramping of prisoners to and from the court, and gen- 
eral disturbance. • 

Recently the Common Council have forbidden lay- 
men to visit prisons and almshouses for religious 

U 



690 Sunshine and Shadow 

instruction ; thus almost completely banishing Prot- 
testant teaching from these institutions. For years a 
large corps of devoted religious men have given their 
Sundays to this work. There are few Protestant min- 
isters that can leave their churches, and the new law 
has almost banished everything but Catholicism from 
our public institutions. 

INTRODUCTION OF CATHOLICISM INTO NEW YORK. 

Father Isaac Jaques, a Jesuit, in 1642 introduced 
Catholicism into this state. He was seized by a party 
of Indians in Huron County, and most cruelly treated. 
His captivity lasted fifteen months. He escaped to 
Fort Orange, now the city of Albany. The Indians 
demanded their prisoner, and threatened to take re- 
veno-e with tomahawk and torch. The Dutch refused 
to give him up, and sent him to New York for safety. 
They pacified the Indians by paying his ransom. 
They gave him his passage on the first vessel sailing 
for Europe, together with a safe pass, that he might 
not be harmed on his journey ; paid all his expenses, 
and ordered that he should be landed in France. In 
1683, three Jesuits resided at New York for a time, 
and opened a college. The Catholic element was too 
weak to support it. The brief record of the time is, — 
" Mr. Graham, Judge Palmer, and John Tudar did 
contribute their sons for some time, but noboddv imi- 
tating them, the college vanished." The British gov- 
ernment tolerated the Catholic religion in Canada, but 
not in New York. In 1778 g French man-of-war was 
taken by the English and brought to New York. The 
chaplain, M. De La Motte, was put on parole, and visited 



• In New York. 691 

the city. He asked permission of the British com- 
mander to celebrate mass, at the request of the few 
Cathohcs in the city. He received a peremptory re- 
fusal. He celebrated the mysteries of his faith not- 
withstanding. He was arrested, and confined in prison 
till exchanged. The old Dutch Church, now used as a 
post office in this city, was occupied at that time by 
the English troops as a riding-school and a hospital. 
Here it is supposed M. De La Motte was confined. 
On the evacuation of New York by the British, public 
w^orship commenced, and St. Peter's Church, in Barclay 
Street, was erected. The State of New York granted 
the act of incorporation in 1785. The Spanish ambas- 
sador laid the corner-stone of St, Peter's in 1786; and 
Charles the Third presented a handsome sum lor the 
erection of the building-. New York was erected into 
a see, April 8, 1808, by Pope Pius VII. From that 
time to the present the course of this church has been 
onward, till it is the great power in this metropolis. 

ITS PRESENT POSITION. 

It has churches and a ministry suited to every class 
of its worshippers, from the highest to the lowest. It 
has an enormous property in real estate in the most 
valuable localities. Its churches, large and numerous 
as they are, bear no proportion to its w^orshippers. 
Each church holds a dozen congregations a day, and 
each service is crowded. The cathedral, in the process 
of erection on Fifth Avenue, has not only one of the 
most commanding positions, but will be one of the 
most costly and magnificent churches on this conti- 
nent. The revenue of the church is immense. Every 



692 Sunshine and Shadow 

member of its countless congregations has to contribute 
to its maintenance ; and all do so, from the least unto 
the greatest. Every worshipper has to pay pew rent, 
and contribute to the work of the church. When a 
contribution is taken, collectors are appointed, who go 
from pew to pew during service, call up the wor- 
shipper from his knees, get his money, and then leave 
him to his devotions. 

Among all the Protestant sects there are not as 
many discordant elements or as much disunion as 
among the Catholics. They are divided into clans and 
nationalities, and often give the archbishop great 
trouble, and defy his authority. The union is apparent, 
but not real. More than once in this city the trustees 
have shut the doors of the church in the face of the 
priest appointed by the archbishop, and have refused 
to see him. The Irish have their churches and priests. 
The Italians have theirs. So have the French and 
other nations. These different communities are hot 
partisans. The Jews and Samaritans did not maintain 
a fiercer enmity. 

ARCHBISHOP MCCLOSKEY. 

Archbishop McCloskey succeeded Archbishop Hughes, 
on the death of that prelate. He is in every respect 
unlike his predecessor; is a man of medium size, a round, 
jovial, contented face, carrot-colored hair, mild expres- 
sion, quiet and unostentatious in his manner, seldom 
appearing before the jiublic by speech or pen except 
in connection with some occasion in w^iich his church 
is represented. Bishop Hughes was always before the 
public. He was aggressive in his movements, always 



In New York. G93 

in a controversy with some one ; attacking Congress, 
the legislature, the courts, the common school sys- 
tem, or some other prominent matter. Archbishop 
McCloskey conducts the affairs of his diocese with the 
secrecy attributed to the Jesuits. But no one doubts 
that his administration of affairs is much more success- 
ful, nnd tlmt the diocese was never in as prosperous a 
condition as now. That the Catholics do not manipu- 
late a few things — the Croton Board, the Police 
Department, the Fire Department, the* Central Park 
— is owing entirely to the interference of the state. 
Strenuous efforts are beins^ made to restore these 
departments to the city government, that they may 
be tributary to Catholicism in the city and country. 



694 Sunshine and Shadow 



XCI. 

gift swindles and lottery 
'enterprises. 

THEIR EXTENT. PLAN OF OPERATION. THE TICKET SWINDLE. MODES OF 

OPERATING. PRIZE TICKET. — CIRCULAR. — MEDICAL SWINDLE. THE 

LETTERS. WHY DOn't THE POLICE BREAK UP THIS SWINDLING? THE 

PARTIES WHO CARRY ON THE SWINDLE. DOLLAR STORES. 

THEIR EXTENT. 

There are over two thousand of these swmdHng 
estabhshments in New York. There are about thirty 
heavy concerns, which do the principal business. These 
change their location and their names often. By a 
flourishing concern, the number of letters received 
daily is from two hundred to five hundred. These 
letters come mainly from the country, — many from 
the West, more from the South. The swindles are 
based upon some pretended benevolent scheme, such 
as the "Asylum for Sick and Wounded Soldiers;" or, 
" Union Jewellers' Society ; " or, " Sailors' and Soldiers' 
Home ; " or, " Orphans' Institute." Sometimes these 
concerns run a newspaper, and offer a gift to every 
subscriber. The " Dollar Stores," with a prize to every 
purchaser, belong to the same class of swindles. Thou- 



In New York. 695 

sands of letters are received at the headquarters of the 
police from victims asking redress ; sending for the 
prizes ; exposing imposition ; pointing out the locality 
where the swindlers do their business, and asking the 
police to break up the den of sharpers. Why the 
police do not do it, and put an end to this robbery, 
will be seen in another place. Three out of the five 
letters received at the police headquarters are from 
victims who have been swindled out of amounts vary- 
ing from ten to two hundred dollars. 

It is estimated that the season, and it is a short one 
usually, during which one of these gift enterprises 
runs, from one hundred thousand dollars to half a mil- 
lion of money is received. There is scarcely a city or 
town in the Union to which circulars are not sent, and 
from which victims are not secured. 

PLAN OF OPERATION. 

From some den in the city, or from some store fitted 
up for the' occasion, a scheme is got up in aid of the 
" Orphans' Institute." By the aid of directories, post- 
office lists, and other means, the names of hundreds of 
thousands of persons are obtained from all parts of the 
country. Circulars are sent to each of these persons, 
containing a list of prizes to be drawn, the numbers, 
and all the paraphernalia of a lottery. Each party is 
made an agent. Each party is guaranteed a prize. 
Each is to sell tickets. Each is to keep quiet, as 
a knowledge of the promised prize to one party 
would create dissatisfaction among the rest. But m 
every case ten dollars must be mailed before the 
prize can be sent on. The party is enjoined to 



696 Sunshine and Shadow 

state whether the prize shall be sent on in a draft or 
in " greenbacks." Ten or fifteen days, at the most, are 
allowed, to respond. As the prize is supposed to be 
worth from one hundred to five hundred dollars, the 
party catches at the bait, sends on the ten dollars, and 
of course that is the last of it. As a specimen of these 
circulars, the minute instructions in regard to the 
prizes, sending the money, &c., to prevent the party 
from coming or sending, the following circular, received 
by the authorities from a victim, will be interesting : — 
* ***** 

Your present will be sent promptly in ten days after the reception of the 
percentage. Don't send for us to ship your present and you pay on deliveiy. 
We cannot do it, as we should have to employ more help than you would 
want to pay, and thus lessen the profits to the ticket holders. Also avoid 
sending to your friends to call and get your presents ; it not only gives them 
trouble, butit is a great annoyance ; they are always sure to call when we have 
the most business on hand, and they insist upon being waited on first, &c., &c. 
To accommodate them we have to run through the immense amount of names, 
and many times we have two of the same name ; then we have to refer to our 
register containing the name, town, and state, to get the correct one. Then, 
again, if you send by them, or should come yourself, you incur expense, for 
you know what you have drawn by your notice, and you see by a vote of 
your committee you cannot collect at sight. No article is delivered under 
ten days' notice, so you or your friends would have to wait ten days before 
being able to obtain what is against your name. We have made this rule and 
must adhere to it, for those that send us their percentage we feel in duty 
bound to wait on first ; therefore we ask, as a great personal favor, that upon 
the receipt of your notification, if there is a percentage of a few dollars to be 
paid, send it by mail, then you will no*-, only have done us a great favor and 
saved us much unnecessary trouble, but you will, at the same time, have kept 
the matter in a straight, business-like manner, so that it will avoid all mis- 
takes by our employees, and you will be sure to get your present at the time 
specified. 

Those that will be notified that they have drawn presents valued at $10, 
upwards to .$25, and there are many, they have no percentage. We have 
passed a vote not to deliver any article from the office, but must in all cases 
be sent by mail or express at their expense, from the fact 'that we should be 
so overrun by those living near that we should have to neglect our friends at 
a distance, so remember to send us word how you want it sent. Write name 
and town plainly, so any one that reads can read and have no mistake. 



In New York. 697 

Money can be sent at onr risk by mail. Tlie surest way is, put your 
money in a letter and pay twenty cents to have it registered, if a large amount ; 
but where it is only a few dollars, put it in a letter so it will look small, and 
then three cents will answer. We seldom miss letters ; and wlien a 1)111 of a 
large denomination is placed in a letter it does not show that it contains any- 
thing, and if it looks so it is sure to arrive safe, and thus you would save 
seventeen cents ; and as a penny saved is as good as two earned, you can take 
your cboice. 

When you receive your present be kind enough to inform us of tbe fact, so 
we can file away as delivered. In case you do not receive it at the expira- 
tion often days, be prompt in giving us word, so we can look it up. On any 
business enclose stamp for return answer. 

The books will be closed after fifteen days from the date of your notifica- 
tion, as it must be closed as soon as possible in order to relieve the committee, 
and as it will give all ample time to remit or send their order how the present 
must be sent. 

We tliink we have given you all the information required, thus saving you 
the trouble of writing for information. 

All letters should be addressed, per order of the managers, to 

Read & Co., Bankers, Ko. G Clinton Hall, Astor Place, 

Successors to Geo. A. Cooke & Co. New York City. 

THE TICKET SAVINDLE. 

Not one in fifty who receive tickets ever buys them. 
Almost all the victims are partners to the frand. They 
receive notice from the mana2:er3 in New York that the 
ticket purchased by them has drawn the prize. Any 
number is put in that the managers please. The prize 
is a gold watch, worth two hundred dollars, or a dia- 
mond, or some other thing worth that amount. Per- 
haps from ten thousand to fifty thousand persons receive 
the same notice. The parties have bought no such 
ticket. They hold no such ticket. They think the 
letter directed to them is a mistake — intended for 
somebody else. They catch at the bait. For ten dol- 
lars they can get two hundred. The man has only ten 
days in which to make the return. He sonde his money, 
gets swindled in common with ten thousand others, and 



698 Sunshine and Shadow 

then lodges his complaint with the New York police. 
The managers understand this arrangement very well. 
They know the victim will not dare prosecute, for he 
is a party to the swindle. The establishment pockets 
two hundred thousand dollars for three months' exper- 
iment, removes to another part of the city, takes a new 
name, and commences the same swindle over again. 
Here is one of the tickets with which a St. Louis man 
w^as swindled out of his five per cent. He sent the 
card to the New York police. 

Mr. , 

St. Louis, Mo. 
Dear Sir : You are hereby notified that ticket No. 137 has drawn gold 
watcli valued at ^200. Five per cent, on the valuation is $10. The per- 
centage must be paid or forwarded within twelve days from the date of this 
notice. 

Those receiving prizes in the preliminary drawing receive them with this 
understanding, that they will either buy tickets in our grand distribution 
that takes place in November, or use their influence in every way possible to 
sell tickets. Any parties receiving this notice, who are not willing to assist 
us in our grand enterprise, will please return the ticket and notice as soon as 
received. All communications and money must be sent to 

Hallett, Moore & Co., Bankers and Financial Managers, 

575 Broadway, New York. 
By order of the 

Neav York Jewellers' Cooperative Union. 

N. B. No prizes will be shipped until the percentage is received. We will 

be ready in fifteen days to fill orders for tickets in the grand distribution of 

five million dollars' worth of goods, the drawing of which is to take place in 

the building of the New Yoi'k Jewellers' Cooperative Union, November 

16, 1868. 

By order of the Board of Directors. 

MODES OF OPERATING. 

The great concerts promised, the public drawings 
and distribution of prizes, never come off Names are 
used withoiU the knowledge or consent of the impor- 
tant gentlemen who are made parties to the fraud. 



In New York. C99 

Soldiers are enlisted in the work of selling tickets, and 
are guaranteed invariably a personal prize from fifteen 
to five hundred dollars. Soldiers who have been in the 
field are especially guaranteed. 

PRIZE TICKET. 

Ticket in ilie Preliminary Drawing of the New York Jewellers' Cooperative 

Union. 

[No. 137.] 

The person receiving the prize drawn by this ticket receives it with the 
understanding that he will use his influence and do all in his power to for- 
ward the sale of tickets in our grand drawing, to take place the l(5th day of 
November next. All money and orders for tickets in the November drawing 

should be sent to 

Hallett, Moore & Co., Bankers, 

575 Broadway, New York. 

The vanity of persons is appealed to. Out of the 
thousands addressed, each one supposes himself the 
privileged and favored party. Each one goes to work 
to sell tickets. Thousands of letters come in weekly to 
the New York house, each containing sums varying from 
ten to twenty, fifty, and one hundred dollars. The 
circular below was received by a soldier in aid of the 
" Sailors' and Soldiers' Refuge." He sent on one hun- 
dred dollars for tickets sold, and ten dollars to pay the 
percentage on his own prize — which of course he never 
received. Long before he could reach New York the 
concern had disappeared. 

CIRCULAR. 

General Agency for the United States, ) 
New York. 3 

Dear Sir : As we are determined to send a good prize in your neighbor- 
hood, and with this resolution we have been looking around for an opening in 
■which, by presenting some discreet reliable person with a prize of a few 



It 



00 Sunshine and Shadow 



hundred dollars, it would have the desired effect to increase the number of 
our customers. We accidentally met with your address, and the idea oc- 
curred to us at once that you were just the person to aid us in our enterprise. 
We therefore make to you a proposition that must strike you as being no less 
novel than it is liberal, and that you may not suppose that there is any decep- 
tion in it we inform you that tlie prize money does not come out of our 
pocket, but out of the pocket of the lottery managers, and we shall not lose 
by sending a few hundred dollars in prize money, but shall gain by it in the 
increased amount of business we shall expect from your neighborhood when 
you show the " greenbacks," and make it generally known that they are the 
proceeds of a prize drawn at our office. We make this offer to you in strict 
confidence — the proposal is plain. We are to send a certificate for a chance 
to draw a prize of a few hundred dollars. Yon are to show the money. The 
result will be that hundreds of dollars will be sent to us for tickets. You -may 
be the gainer of a few hundred dollars. We shall be gainers by our sales, 
and the parties who send for tickets may be gainers by drawing prizes. 
Every one that sends will of course expect to draw a prize, not knowing the 
offer we made privately to you, which is as follows : Send us $10 to pay the 
managers, and we will send to you, securely sealed, a certificate of a package 
of tickets in the enclosed scheme ; and to set at rest any doubt you may have 
of our sincerity, we hereby bind ourselves to send you a second certificate in 
any of our brilliant extra lotteries, /or nothing, if the first we send you does 
not draw you, clear of all expenses, twelve hundred dollars ; and mark this fact, 
to send you twelve hundred dollars out of the managers' pocket will cost us 
nothing, but to send you an extra certificate will take money out of our 
pocket. We mention this merely to show you tiiat it is our interest to send 
you a prize. We hand you an envelope with our address. Enclose to us 
sflO, and state in your letter whether we shall send you a draft on your 
nearest bank, or shall we send you the amount in "greenbacks" by mail, 
which last perhaps will suit you better. Please let us have your order by 
return mail, as we shall have to order the certificate from the managers for 
you, and believe us, 

Yours, respectfully, 

C. A. Taylor & Co. 

P. S. In remitting, please send post office order or by express, or register 
the letter, to insure safe delivery to us. 

MEDICAL SWINDLE. 

Another favorite mode of swindling is carried on by 
men whose " sands of hfe have almost run out." The 
party represents himself as a retired clergyman ; one 
who had suffered long from the asthma, or from a bron- 



In New York. 701 

cliial affection, or one nearly dead with the dyspep- 
sia, or wasting away with consumption. Through a 
recipe from an old doctor, or an old nurse, or an In- 
dian, the party obtained relief Out of gratitude for 
the recovery, the healed clergyman or individual gives 
notice that he will send the recipe " without charge " to 
any sufferer who may desire it. Circulars by the thou- 
sand are sent to the address of persons in all parts of 
the country. Each person is required to put a postage 
stamp in his letter, for the transmission of the recipe. 
Tliousands of letters come back in response. The 
recipe is sent, attached to which is the notice that great* 
care must be taken in securing the right kind of med- 
icine. Not one apothecary in a hundred in the coun- 
try has the medicine named. The benevolent holder 
of the recipe adds to other things, that should the 
party not be able to get the medicine, if he Avill en- 
close three or five dollars, as the case may be, the New 
York party will make the purchase and send it on by 
express. Dreaming of no fraud, the money is sent as 
directed. If the medicine is sent on at all, it costs 
aljout fifty cents to the buyer, and a handsome busi- 
ness is done. If the swindle takes, the party will 
pocket from twenty thousand to fifty thousand dol- 
lars, break up the concern, and be out of the way be- 
fore the victim can visit New York. 

THE LETTERS. 

The thirty large gift establishments receive about 
five hundred letters a day. Full three fifths of these 
letters contain money. Some of the letters detained 
by the authorities were found to contain sums as high 



702 Sunshine and Shadow 

as three hundred dollars. Directed to different parties, 
they are taken out by the same persons. The med- 
icine swindle, the dollar fraud, advertising for partners, 
dollar stores, and gift enterprises are run by the same 
parties. This advertising for partners is worthy of 
especial notice. A man with a capital of from one hun- 
dred to five hundred dollars is wanted. Great induce- 
ments are held out to him. He can make one hundred 
dollars a day and run no risk. The victim appears. 
He has a little money, or his wife has some, or he has 
a little place he can mortgage. The gift swindle is 
open to him. The basket of letters is opened in his 
presence. He is offered a share in the dazzling scheme. 
He pays his money, helps open the letters for a day or 
two, and then the scheme dissolves in the night. Al- 
most all these large swindles have smaller ones that go 
along with them. 

WHY DO NOT THE POLICE BREAK UP THIS SWINDLING? 

The names of the parties who are carrying on these 
gigantic swindles are well known to our police. The 
managers have been arrested a dozen times. Broken 
up in one place, under a new name they open again. 
Thousands of letters are sent to the police headquar- 
ters from victims askino; for redress. But not one of 
these letters is a complaint. Without a complaint the 
police are powerless. The victims belong to the coun- 
try. Most of them have a respectable standing. They 
knew the thing was illegal when it was presented to 
them. It was a lottery, and nothing more. When 
they sent their ten dollars to secure the prize, they 
knew it was a cheat on their part, for they had bouglit 



In New York. 703 

no ticket, and if there Avas a prize they were not enti- 
tled to it. They dare not commence a suit against 
these parties, and come to New York and prosecute 
it. The swindlers understand this perfectly well, and 
defy the authorities. If gentlemen from the rural dis- 
tricts love to be swindled, and will be parties to the 
cheat, refuse to make a complaint, or back up the com- 
plaint in the courts, they must take the consequences. 

THE PARTIES AVIIO CARRY ON THE SWINDLE. 

In almost every case gift enterprises are carried on 
under an assumed name, and when arrested, the parties . 
prove that they are not the men who carry on the busi- 
ness. When goods are seized, an owner appears not 
before named to replevin the stock. A. A. Kelly seems 
to have been the orio;inator of this method of swindlino:. 
He beo;an in Chicasro with the Skatino; Rink. He then 

DO O 

came to New York and began the gift enterprise and 
the dollar lottery scheme. He got up a Mock Turtle 
Oil Stock Company. He swindled a man in Erie countj^ 
who had him indicted. He was arrested by the police 
on a bench warrant, sent to Erie county to be tried, and 
is now serving the state in prison. Eeade & Co., Clin- 
ton Hall, now doing the largest gift lottery business in 
the city, cannot be found, though the police have ar- 
rested the subordinates a dozen times. 

One of the great firms in New York was run by 
Clarke, Webster, & Co. The police came down on the 
establishment and took away six truck-loads of books, 
circulars, and goods. They found directories for every 
town and city in the country. What were not printed 
were written. No such individuals as Clarke, Webster, 



704 Sunshine and Shadow 

& Co. existed. A man known as William M. Elias ap- 
peared as the owner of the goods, and demanded them 
on a writ of replevin. The police refused to give them 
up, and gave bonds. The goods still remain at the 
headquarters. 

Many victims who receive notice that their ticket, 
which they never bought, has drawn a prize, and who 
are requested to send on the ten dollars to pay ex- 
penses and percentage, try to do a sharp thing. They 
send the ten dollars on to General Kennedy, the Su- 
perintendent of the Police, with the request that he 
will pay it and take the present if it is "all right. Such 
parties generally get a sharp answer from the official, 
informing them that gambling is unlawful ; that the 
business they are engaged in is gambling ; that the 
whole concern is a swindle, and that they had better 
put their money in their pockets and mind their 
business. 

DOLLAR STORES. 

These establishments are a part of the gift swindle, 
and are run by the same men under a different name. 
Their establishment is well calculated to attract and de- 
ceive. They ofFer you gold watches apparently worth 
three hundred dollars, which an unpractised eye could 
not detect from a valuable timepiece, for the sum of 
ten dollars. Gold brooches, diamond pins, silver pitch- 
ers, silver tea-sets, valued at from ten to one hundred 
dollars apparently, and all for the low sum of from one 
to ten dollars. These articles are all manufxctured. for 
the purpose, and on each of them the proprietor makes 
a profit. Hundreds of these establishments are broken 



In New York. 705 

up every year. But as long as parties are willing to 
pay their money for a swindle, — as long as they will 
submit to be duped, and enrich parties who cheat them, 
persons will be found willing to enrich themselves with 
gift swindles and gambling operations. 

45 



706 Sunshine and Shadow 



XCII. 

SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. • 

Whoever writes of New York truly, will do so in 
lines of light and gloom. Though this city is not so 
large as London, life is here more intense ; crime is 
more vivid and daring; the votaries of fashion and 
pleasure are more passionate and open. The joy and 
good in New York abound over sorrow and evil. The 
religious people are decidedly religious. The liberal 
are decidedly liberal. Nor are donations confined to 
the city or state. The beneficence of New York 
touches both oceans, and makes glad the heart of 
men in all parts of the world. The calls on the wealthy 
are ceaseless. Yet the liberal never tire, and their 
gifts are in many instances graded by their own suc- 
cess. Immense donations are annually made, running 
up from ten thousand dollars to half a million. To 
agree to give ten thousand dollars a year for ten years 
is no uncommon arrang-ement. To found a colleg;e, 
endow a j)rofessorship, to donate a library, to build a 
church and complete it in all its appointments in locali- 
ties far away, to build a church in memoriam, costing 
three hundred thousand dollars, to give half a million 
for an educational institution, is the pastime of our 
wealthy citizens. 



In New York. 707 

In no other city is mission work, Sunclay-scliool la1)or, 
the visiting of prisons, hospitals, penitentiaries, per- 
formed by the wealthy as it is in New York. Merchant 
princes, millionnaires, lawyers of national repute, doc- 
tors of continental fame, editors and conductors of our 
most celebrated papers, successful book men, and 
wealthy mechanics, who are religious, are found in our 
Sunday schools. There are more religious men of this 
class than can be found in any other city. The great 
merchant who rivals Stewart in the retail business, 
who stands second to him in the wholesale, and who 
employs nearly five hundred men in his massive busi- 
ness, can be seen on Sunday in the infant department 
of the Sunday school, with a child or two in his lap, 
singino; about the 

" Sweet story of old, 
When Jesus was hero among men." 

A worse population than can be found in New York 
does not inhabit the globe. The base men of every 
nation, and the crimes, customs, and idolatries of every 
quarter of the world, are here. Portions of the city 
are abandoned to the lowest order of the Jews. The 
Italians herd together near Five Points, in a locality 
not safe to enter at night, unless guarded by the 
police. They are dangerous, turbulent, stealthy, and 
defiant. Their very tread is suggestive of the stiletto. 
There is no locality viler, more repulsive, or more 
wicked than that occupied by the low French. The 
Chinese herd together, without the decency of cattle. 
They smoke their opium, burn incense, and worship 
idols, as in the cities of the " Celestial Empire." 

The organ-grinders have their locality. The organs 



708 Sunshine and Shadow 

are usually owned by persons who have capital. The 
man, woman, child, and monkey that attend the 
organ are hired by the day. They herd at night in a 
vile locality. Men and women, black and white, drunk 
and sober, sleep in a common room, in bunks or on 
the unwholesome floor. Men and women who gather 
ashes and garbage have a common rendezvous, where 
the howling of the dogs and the fighting of the women 
and men make night hideous. Horses, donkeys, cattle, 
goats, and pigs are kept in the cellar with geese and 
chickens, or quite frequently in a small back yard, the 
animals being driven through the front entry to their 
reeking stables. A portion of New York is Paradise : 
a large part is Pandemonium. 

In New York, fortunes are suddenly made and sud- 
denly lost. I can count over a dozen merchants who, 
at the time I began to write this book, a few months 
ago, were estimated to be worth not less than two 
hundred and fifty thousand dollars, some of them half a 
million, who are now utterly penniless. At the open^ 
ing of this year (1868) a merchant, well known in thia 
citj', had a surplus of two hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars in cash. He died suddenly in July. He made 
his will three months before his death, and appointed 
his executors. By that will he divided two hundred" 
and fifty thousand dollars. His executors contributed 
one thousand dollars to save a portion of the furniture 
to the widow, and that was all that was left her out of 
that great estate. He did what thousands have done 
before him, what thousands are doing now, and will do 
to-morrow. He had money enough, but he wanted a 
little more. He was induced to go into a nice little 



In New York. 709 

speculation on Wall Street. He put in fifty thousand 
dollars. To save it he put in fifty thousand dollars 
more. The old story was repeated, with the same 
results. 

Great cities must ever be centres of light and dark- 
ness ; the repositories of piety and wickedness ; the 
home of the best and the worst of our race; holding 
within themselves the highest talent for good and evil, 
with vast enginery for elevation and degradation ; 
from which come untold sums for religion and benefi- 
cence, and for the ruin and destruction of the race. 
The philanthropist and reformer find in New York 
ample scope for all their powers. The abandoned and 
the dissolute are not always the most hardened. The 
sigh of penitence, the sob of despair, and the prayer for 
deliverance from a vicious life, are heard at night in 
the damp, gloomy cells of our prisons, but are often 
unheeded. There are to-day five hundred girls on the 
pave of New York who pray God nightly for deliver- 
ance, which does not come. Many of them are very 
young. They have left healthy country homes. Mock 
marriages and promises of marriage have led them 
to forsake the happy hearthstone where they knew 
neither shame, want, nor sorrow. The vicious arms of 
New York stretch themselves hundreds of miles away 
into the country. In picnics, large gatherings, private 
academies, and on commencement occasions, victims 
are secured. Once in New York, the horror and re- 
morse, the sickness and suffering of the new life, break 
on the victim. Tears of blood are shed without avail. 
The motto over bad New York is the startling words, 
" Whoso entereth here leaves hope behind." 



710 



Sunshine and Shadow 



One of our leading music teachers, who has been 
long and successfully connected with the mission work 
at Five Points, had occasion, with some friends and 
an officer, not long since, to visit a house filled with 
young women. He was asked to play. He com- 
menced with some operatic music. Then he played 
some national songs. He is a magnificent singer as 
well as player, and the unusual sound of such music in 
that place crowded the parlors. He gradually intro- 
duced more plaintive music. He then sang a hymn or 
two. Growing bold, and yet fearing the result, he be- 
gan, in a voice full of feeling, Toplady's magnificent 
hymn, — 

"Eock of Ages, cleft for me." 

Nearly every eye was full of tears. Sobs accompanied 
the music. At the conclusion quite a number of girls, 
who wept as if their hearts would break, clung to the 
singer, and begged of him to take them from that 
place. They would work, they would do any menial 
thing, if they had but a shelter and a refuge. That 
shelter and refuge Christian New York does not pro- 
vide, and he had to leave these suffering, penitent, 
beseeching girls where he found them. 

A young woman was arrested for keeping a dis- 
orderly house, and was placed in prison. One day the 
sherifi" called on a well-known clergyman, celebrated for 
his philanthropic labors, and said to him, " There is a 
young woman in prison ; her mother is dead, and, as 
she has no home, her funeral is to be attended from 
the prison. I don't know of anybody who will attend 
the funeral unless you will do it." The minister readily 
complied, and was at the jail at the appointed hour. 



In New York. 711 

The young woman wvas with the dead. She was the 
only mourner ; and the sheriff's family were present at 
the services. At the conclusion of the religious exer- 
cises the daughter rose, went up to the minister, and 
eaid, " Would you not like to go and look at my 
mother?" While standing at the head of the coffin 
the minister felt impressed to say something. He 
turned to her, and said, " Do you not feel that this is 
a fit time to make new resolutions, and in the presence 
of the dead to change your course of life ? " She 
paused a moment, deliberately took off her gloves, 
placed one hand on the brow of her mother, gave the 
other to the minister, and said, " With God's help I 
swear." She was removed to her cell. Several Chris- 
tian women visited her. About three weeks after the 
funeral, on going into his prayer-meeting one Friday 
night, the minister saw the young woman, deeply 
veiled, sitting on the front seat. While a hymn was 
being sung he went and spoke to her. She told him 
that she still held to her vow ; that she had been re- 
leased from jail that afternoon, and that the prayer- 
meeting was the first place she had entered. He 
asked her if she was willing to make a statement of 
her feelings to the church. She replied, " If you 
think it is fit for such as I am to speak in this place, 
I am willing." In a modest manner, but in words that 
thrilled, she told the story of her sad life. " When your 
pastor," she said, " uttered those words at the coffin of 
my mother, ' God bless you, and give you strength 
to keep your vow,' they thrilled my deepest soul. In 
astonishment I cried out, ' What, you bless me ! They 
are the first kind words I have heard for years.' They 



712 



Sunshine and Shadow. 



decided my fate." She was removed to the country, 
away from her acquaintances and the temptations of 
the city. She soon after united with the church, and 
is an earnest, humble, and devoted worker in the paths 
of religion and philanthropy. So it must ever be while 
New York maintains her position as the Metropolis of 
the Nation : that within her borders will be found 
Sunshine and Shadow. 



In New York. 713 



XCIII. 

[appendices, by '-'scriptor."] 

REV. THOMAS ARMITAGE, D. D. 

One of the most popular and impressive public 
speakers in the city is the pastor of the Fifth Avenue 
Baptist Church. Dr. Annitage was born iti York- 
shire, England, and his age is about fifty. At about 
fifteen years of age he commenced preaching among 
the Methodists, and a few years after he came to this 
country. 

About twenty years ago he became pastor of a Baptist 
church, then located in Norfolk Street. The transfer 
of this large body to its present location, was an un- 
dertaking that required of him great ability, and niflu- 
ence over his people. 

Dr. Armitage's eloquence is characterized by extra- 
ordinary combinations of ideas, couched in elegant 
language. His utterance is impassioned ; his man- 
ner peculiar and persevering. He heaps idea upon 
idea, illustration upon illustration, until the hearer is 
bewildered. Yet he is a phiin, practical man of 
business. 

Since the death of Dr. Cene, he has been the perma- 
nent President of the American Bible Unioi^, the 
object of which is to procure and circulate the most 
faithful versions of the sacred scriptures, in all languages, 



714 Sunshine and Shadow 

througliout the world. This body is constantly grow- 
ing in numbers and influence. In the brief period of its 
existence it has circulated considerably over half a 
million of coj)ies of the scriptures ; and with the 
aid of the best scholarship of the age, professes to have 
detected and corrected more than 10,000 errors in the 
common Enjjlish testament. This has often brouoht 
its supporters into public conflict with the friends of 
the common version, and caused no little display of 
controversial ability on each side. 

Dr. Armitage, of course, has been obliged to defend 
his position and that of the Bible Union, especially in 
the substitution of the words immerse and immersion for 
haptize and haptism. It is but just to say, that he has 
fairly met the requisitions of such occasions, and 
proved himself as sound as a logician as he is eloquent 
as a speaker. 

Dr. Armitage's social qualities are fully equal to his 
pulpit abilities. He is the life of company, full of 
humor and repartee, with a lively sense of the ludi- 
crous and an almost tragic power of sarcasm. These 
qualities have procured for him a large circle of attach- 
ed friends, not at all confined to the denomination 
with which he is ecclesiastically connected. 



Ik New York. 715 

XCIV. 
THE SEWING MACHINE INTEREST. 

NEW TORK THE GREAT CENTRE. A WORD OF HISTORY. — THE REPRESENT- 
ATIVE COMPANY. — THE WEED SEWING MACHINE. 

A Work upon current life in New York, and the 
vast interests which centre there and radiate over the 
whole land, would be signally incomplete if neglecting 
to notice that most important domestic interest, the 
Sewing Machine, which, under various forms, some 
good, others better, has become almost a recognized 
" household god " throughout the country, as well as a 
practical necessity for every well-regulated family — - 
every family in which the wife, the mother or the 
daughters are not looked upon and treated as merely 
slaves or drudges ; in which woman is respected, and 
her burdens sought to be made lighter. 

New Y'^ork has become the great mart of Sewing 
Machines for this country ; and the warehouses which 
serve this great interest, and are mostly located be- 
tween Canal Street and Union Square, on Broadway, 
are among the imperial edifices which adorn that 
grand avenue. Already the Sewing ^laehine businesi^ 
has become one of the financial as well as domestic 
" powers that be." Although young it is old enough 
to have a history, a narrative of the struggles of gen- 
ius in giving it birth, and of patience and perseverance 
in urging its claims upon the public against a thous- 
and obstacles ; a history, too, at last, of mighty tri- 
umphs and crowns of literal gold. It will not be at- 



716 Sunshine and Shadow 

tempted here to decide upon the claims of rivals for 
the honor of having invented the Sewing Machine, or 
any parts thereof. But be the honor whose it may, 
it is conceded by all, we believe, that the Sewing Ma- 
chine had its origin in the brains of those who toiled 
for a living, and grew to general recognition at last, 
only under the fostering smiles or in the tears of 
hoping, struggling humanity — a peculiar child of the 
people. It is true that all great inventions have en- 
countered great obstacles to their introduction to 
public favor ; but, few, if any, have undergone trials 
at all comparable with those which attended the in- 
troduction of the Sewing Machine. Various were the 
objections urged against its use, the only sensible one 
being that of its great cost. 

But other forms of the Sewing Machine than the 
first, were soon created ; many modifications of the 
old form, and some original. The public wants be- 
came numerous as the Sewing Machine moved on in 
general favor, and the inventive genius of the whole 
country was taxed to meet them. Some of these new 
inventions had but a transitory life. The growth of 
the Sewing Machine proceeded until at last certain 
forms of it have become staple, and are respectively 
so good that almost every lady who has a Machine 
and unfortunately knows nothing of the merits of any 
of another kind, thinks hers is the best in the world. 
But, nevertheless, some Machines possess important 
advantages over others. 

The number of Machines, we ought perhaps to note 
here, now annually manufactured in the United States, 



r 



In New York. 717 

cannot be far from two Imnclred thousand. In an 
article such as this everything hke prejudice must be 
carefully avoided. In whatever family "Sunshine and 
Shadow " is found, there will likely be a more or less 
growing demand for the Sewing Machine ; for where- 
ever books go and are read, there will refinement, to 
some degree, follow. Literature begets the kindnesses 
of social life which move the rouerh and thouulitless 
husband and father to consider, sympathize with, and 
seek to soften the troubles and trials of the wife and 
daughters. Inasmuch, then, as we have made the 
subject of Sewing Machines one of special study, in 
which we have informed ourselves of the claims, and 
the merits and demerits of the principal ones, we feel 
that we shall render ourselves obnoxious to no charge 
of prejudice in stating the result of our inquiry. That 
there are several different and good Machines in the 
market it would be idle to question. The fame of 
the Singer Machine, that of Grover and Baker, the 
Wheeler and Wilson, and also the Howe, is justly great. 
But it would be strange if prolific genius did not in 
years invent machines superior to these, and we were 
not astonished to find that the instrument made by 
the Weed Sewing Machine Company, though com- 
paratively new, is already occupying much of the field 
heretofore held by the older machines, and has become 
the Representative Machine of American ingenuity 
and enterprise, adapted to supply the most wants, and 
destined to be the machine ^9«r excellence of the future. 
The large Warehouse of i\\Q Weed Company is at 
613 Broadway, where throngs of people from country 



718 Sunshine and Shadow. 

and city can constantly be met during business Hours. 
The popularity of the Weed machine is perhaps the 
best evidence of its superiority, and is so great that 
the Company have almost wholly abandoned, we are 
told, advertising its merits through the public press. 
The orders en this Company are vastly more than they 
can fill, notwithstanding their extended manufacturing 
facilities. Indeed, so widely and favorably known is 
the Weed Machine, that it may properly be said to 
sell itself. When a company gets to that point that 
it needs make no exertion to enlarge the popularity 
of its wares, it has to observe but one rule, namely, to 
put before the public only the best of wares ; and to 
this point the Weed Company seem fully alive. The 
greatest care possible is taken that every Machine 
sent out shall be just what it claims to be. This hon- 
orable dealing upon the part of the Company, reviving 
the da}^s, deplorably long past in most businesses, when 
our merchants were Jnen of honor as well as of enter- 
prise, has already had its effect in their favor. " This 
Company can be trusted for good work," say the people, 
"We will try their Machines;" and trial is sure to 
result in purchase. Simplicity is a great desideratum 
in a Sewing Machine, so say our female friends, espe- 
cially ; and this the Weed Machine seems to possess 
above all others. Hence, doubtless, much of that pop- 
ularity which has commanded for it a place herein as I 
the Representative Sewing Machine of America — an 
honor so emphatically recognized at the Paris Exposi- 
tion of 1867. 



ANEW 



DICTIOMM OF THE BIBLE, 



COMPRISING ITS 



ANTIQUITIES, BIOGPiAPHY, GEOGRAPHY 



? 



AND 



NATURAL HISTORY. 



1 



EDITED BY WILLIAIVI SMITH, LL.D., 

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DICTIONARIES OF "GREEK AND ROMAN ANTIQUITIES," "BIOGRAPHY 

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A few years since, Dr. WillLam Smith, of the University of London, and the most eminent Lex- 
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of both Europe and this country, in the great tasli of preparing a comprehensive Dictionary of 
the Bible, and supplying the want that had been long felt by the religious public. The result of 
these labors has at last appeared in thrco lai-ffe and very costly volumes, and is a wonderhil moim- 
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taries for the elucidation and illustration of the Bible. 

The present work contains every name in the Bible respecting which anything can be said. It 
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Dialects, and thfe discoveries of the modern travelers and explorers in the Holy Land— Robin- 
son, Rawlinson, Ferguson, Layard, OH'ert and Stanley. It gives a more complete list of the proper 
names in the Scripture than is contained even in Cruden's great Concordance. 

The Publishers are confident that in this work they ofler to the American public a volume that 
is greatly superior for the use of Christian people generally, to any of the kind yet issued. It 
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First. It is printed in type of a heavy, distinct, and very legible face. 

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